White Shroud
by Zelda Ophelia
Summary: When the flu bug hits the NYPD, the detectives and CSIs work to cover the caseload. Between a body in a park, a body in a locker room and a case of karma, they've got their work cut out for them.
1. Chapter 1

**Note:** This was written for the CSI Big Bang. Thanks to Elenna for the beta.  
**Warning:** Future chapters will contain non-graphic discussion of sexual violence.  
**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable CSI, CSI: Miami, and CSI: NY characters, settings, etc. are the property of Anthony Zuiker and CBS. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of the CSI franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

::

It was the best day ever as far as Sebastian was concerned. It had snowed lots last night and school was closed, so Miss Melissa had brought them to the park to play after lunch. He didn't even mind having to play with the girls, since they got to make a snowman. In brand new snow. No one had even walked in it yet--he couldn't believe it. He was pretty sure that this is what the older boys at school meant when they said "jackpot". (He'd tried asking Mom, but she'd just made that really pinched face and told him she never wanted to hear him sounding so pedestrian again.)

(He'd had to ask Miss Melissa what pedestrian meant.)

Once the girls got done making their snow angels - he and Louis and Matty weren't going to do something girly like that, even though it kinda looked like fun - they started rolling their balls of snow to make their snowman. Sebastian knew the most about making snowmen. He was almost a whole year older than Sarah (even though they were in the same class at school--Daddy said it was because he had a red shirt) and had obviously made more than her. That didn't keep her from trying to tell everyone how to do it. She was almost as bossy as Peter Ramsey, and everyone knew he was the bossiest kid in their class.

By the time he and Louis had the bottom ball of the snowman finished, the other girls had the head rolled, and Sarah and Matty were almost finished with the middle. Only they weren't, because the middle was almost as big as their part, which he was quick to point out.

"Then make the bottom bigger," Sarah said. She crossed her arms and made that same mean glaring look that Mom made when Daddy got home too late.

"No, you."

"Fine, this'll be the bottom."

"No way! Louis and I made the bottom."

"You made it too small. Obviously you don't know anything about making snowmen."

"Did not! You made the middle too big!"

"Did not! You're just incomt- inconti- you just don't know what you're doing."

"Hey! I do, too!"

"No you don't!"

"Sarah! Sebastian!" That was Miss Melissa, and she wasn't too happy they were fighting. "Keep it up and we're all going back home. You hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am"

"Yes, Miss Melissa." Sebastian hung his head but peered up at her through his eyelashes.

Miss Melissa just rolled her eyes and began to chuckle. "You aren't the slightest bit repentant, are you?"

He knew what repentant was--that meant sorry. "We didn't mean to fight. She just-"

"Uh! No finger pointing. Now, why don't you and Louis finish rolling your big snowball. Sarah and Matty can help push."

"We'll go over there," Sarah said, pointing at the _huge_ snowdrift across the park.

"No!" Louis shouted, his eyes wide in horror. "We can't use that!"

"Louis," Miss Melissa said, shaking her head with an amused look, "why can't you use that snow?"

"If we use it for a snowman, we can't make the snow hill into a fort."

"A fort?" Sebastian asked, his eyes growing wide. They could make a fort!

"Yeah, we could tunnel into it, and it could be our snow cave fort! And it would be cool!"

"Oh, it'd definitely be cool. You'll all freeze to death," Miss Melissa muttered under her breath. Sebastian was pretty certain that was what she called sarcasm. (Mom said that sarcasm was very unbecoming, but Miss Melissa was too valuable an au pair to get rid of just because of that.)

"Yeah! Neat!" Sarah said, clapping her hands. "We could have separate rooms for the boys and girls, and we could make little beds for our baby dolls and-"

"Ewww..." Louis wrinkled his nose. "Who wants to play with baby dolls in there? We could play "Cowboys and Indians" instead and fight each other for the fort!"

"Momma says we can't play "Cowboys and Indians", 'cause it isn't 'PC'," Alyson, who had kept very quiet until now, said.

"Then we'll play "Cops and Robbers". She didn't say you couldn't play that, did she?"

"Not yet."

Everyone nodded. Alyson's Momma had the strictest rules. That meant that usually Alyson couldn't do anything fun. Sebastian bet that "Cops and Robbers" would be outlawed, too, pretty soon.

"Okay," Miss Melissa said, carefully re-braiding one of Tricia's braids that had come undone, "you can build your fort, but first you need to finish the snowman. Why not get your snow from over by the bench?"

The bench wasn't even close to the snowdrift, so they all quickly agreed. And since everyone wanted to work on the snow fort, everyone helped, and they had the snowman finished in what Miss Melissa called record time. She also said it was "awesome", which was another word he couldn't say around Mom.

He and Matty and Louis found the perfect sticks to use as arms, while the girls made the face with pebbles and a carrot that Miss Melissa had in her bag. She even had a stocking cap and scarf for the snowman, saying it wouldn't be a proper snowman without. As soon as it was finished they all raced over to the snowdrift to start to make the fort.

"Wait!" Louis shouted. Everyone stopped and turned to look at him. "We can't all go doing this all at once. We've got to have a plan. Otherwise we'll just ruin it."

Sebastian nodded, and so did Matty and Alyson, though Sarah didn't seem to like the idea. But Louis continued before Sarah could say anything bossy.

"Sebastian and I will start making our tunnel at this end. Sarah and Matty can start across from us. Then Alyson and Tricia can start digging over here, and Hannah and Beth can start over there. Then we'll have four tunnels going into the fort that all meet in the middle!"

Even Sarah had to admit it was a good idea. At least Sebastian thought she did, until she started screaming and screaming and she really did scream like a little girl. Then Matty was screaming, too, and Miss Melissa came running over and when she saw what was going on her face turned really white and she pointed at the bench. "All of you, over there now."

Sebastian was going to protest, but then Louis gasped and hit him in the arm. He looked down. There was a _boot_ under the snow. Miss Melissa came over, her cell phone in her hand. "Get over to the bench, you two."

"But Miss Melissa, there's--" Louis just pointed at the boot.

"I know. Go sit down." She put her phone up to her ear, and Sebastian could hear a voice saying "911, please state your emergency" and then Miss Melissa was saying that there was a dead body in Union Square Park as she shooed them over to the bench.

He could see, as they passed where Matty and Sarah had been digging, a hand. It was very pale, almost the same color as the snow.

Sebastian had never seen a dead body before. He didn't think he ever wanted to see one again.

::

Detective Jessica Angell was talking with a young woman when Stella and Lindsay arrived at Union Square Park. Behind the woman was a bench that looked like it was loaded with children, all of whom looked some degree of scared or shaken. Angell nodded at something she was saying before closing her notebook and heading over in their direction.

"What have we got?" Stella asked as she approached, looking around the park and pulling her wool coat tighter around her. The call coming in had said there was a body in the park. She had yet to see the body.

"Melissa Kenyon." Angell motioned to the woman she had been speaking with as she briefed them. "She is regularly the nanny for one of the boys over there, but when school is called for snow she ends up picking up some extra cash by watching some of the other kids from the building, as well. They came out here to play in the park, do the usual - make some snow angels, build a snowman, have a snowball fight, those kinds of things. She wasn't expecting to add 'find a dead body' to the list."

"Dead body?" Lindsay asked, looking around the park again.

The wind picked up again as she spoke, lifting a spray of snowflakes from the ground and blowing them across the park. It made her glad for the thick, fluffy red scarf she'd wrapped around her neck as they'd left the lab. And her gloves. She glanced down at them quickly. The worst thing about outdoor crime scenes in the winter, at least in her opinion, was that thick gloves and mittens weren't tactile enough for delicate evidence collection. Which meant these were going to have to come off soon, as soon as they found the body. She glanced back up at Angell, who seemed entirely too amused at the situation.

"The body?" Angell said, shoving her hands down into her pockets. "It's back there."

She nodded back at a drift of snow that looked partially dug up. Stella paused, then said, "That's a snowdrift."

"It's under the snowdrift," Angell responded. "The kids were going to dig out a snow fort but found the body instead. Miss Kenyon says that as soon as a couple of the kids started screaming, she stopped them from digging and sat them all down on the bench. So your crime scene shouldn't be too disturbed."

"No," Lindsay said with a sigh. "It's just under all that snow." She turned to Stella. "How do we want to do this?"

"We've got to dig it out." Stella set her kit down at the edge of the crime scene tape, then glanced over at Angell. "Do you need to get anything else from the witnesses?"

"Nah, I was just about to release them," Angell said as she shook her head. "She didn't have much, just what time they got here and who found the body. I have her contact info in case we need to get anything more."

"Good, c'mon."

Angell just raised an eyebrow in question.

"I'm unofficially deputizing you as a CSI long enough to help us dig the body out," Stella said, pulling her phone out as they made their way over to the drift. Lindsay had already taken out the camera and was getting pictures of the mostly unblemished snow, including shots of the hand and boot that were visible now that they were getting closer.

"Let me guess--too many techs out with the bug that's going around?"

"That, and we're all less likely to get sick ourselves the less time we spend out here."

Angell laughed softly, pulling her stocking cap down to better cover her ears. "I always did love snow days."


	2. Chapter 2

**Note:** This was written for the CSI Big Bang. Thanks to Elenna for the beta. Thank you to everyone else for the great feedback.  
**Warning:** Future chapters will contain non-graphic discussion of sexual violence.  
**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable CSI, CSI: Miami, and CSI: NY characters, settings, etc. are the property of Anthony Zuiker and CBS. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of the CSI franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

::

He set the latest budget report down when his phone rang, frowning as if that would make the problem go away. Both problems, really. Regardless of the flu shots all public workers had been required to receive, far too many of his people had been calling in sick. News reports were already calling it a record failure in preparing this year's vaccination, speculating that it was even worse than the last time the vaccine-makers had predicted the wrong strain.

Unfortunately, complaining about it - even if just mentally - didn't make his sick employees well. Or give the healthy employees a much-needed respite. And he had a feeling this phone call wasn't going to, either. He mentally cataloged the lab's staff, trying to determine who it would be as he answered.

"Taylor."

"Hey, Mac, we may have a problem."

Stella. That meant it wasn't as bad as it could be. It wasn't someone else calling in sick, and he knew that whatever the problem, he could depend on her to get through it. "What happened?"

"You know that little snow we had last night?"

"Little snow? It nearly shut down the city. It's several feet deep in some places."

"Yeah, including on top of our vic. We're going to have to dig him out, Mac. And try to do so without losing any evidence. It'll take longer than expected."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "We don't have any spare people to send out to help."

"It's okay, we've got Angell to give us a hand," Stella explained. "But we probably won't be back anytime soon."

"Well, I was going to ask you and Lindsay if you could stay longer, but I think this takes care of that."

"More calling in?"

"Too many. I've contacted Quinn to see how hard she's been hit and if we can borrow any of her people until ours start getting better."

"And?"

"There'll be some relief tomorrow."

"But we've still got to get through today." He could hear her sigh on the other end of the line. "We'll try to get through this as quickly as possible. And don't worry about us pitching in, we were both expecting to be working doubles for a while with the number of people calling in."

"I'll have to ask Hawkes and Danny to, as well."

"Hate to break it to you, Mac, but I don't think they're going to be surprised either."

He grinned, chuckling softly. "I think we've all seen the writing on the wall for this one. Keep me up to date on how it's going out there."

"Slow and cold, most likely."

::

"This," Angell said as she brushed the tendrils of hair falling from her ponytail back from her face, "is why I leave the science to you guys."

"This isn't science," Lindsay said, brushing the last of the snow from the vic's torso. "This is playing in the snow in the name of science."

"Doesn't matter. I'm getting hot. It's 20 degrees out here, and I'm getting hot," she shook her head as she stood, brushing the snow from her pants. She was going to be freezing pretty soon, too--of that she was certain. Her pants were soaked through from the knees down, thanks to kneeling in the snow, and it looked like Bonasera and Monroe were in the same boat. Still, hauling the snow off of the body had been enough activity to warm her up - enough so that she was ready to take her coat off – and help her wake up a bit. On the other hand, her hands were already freezing.

"This is good enough," Stella said as she reached for her kit. Lindsay immediately started snapping new pictures of their now uncovered victim, a white male, early twenties, with short dark hair and dressed in more than one designer label.

"So." Angell looked at him over her shoulder. "College student? NYU has dorms not far from here."

"He's the right age," Lindsay said.

Stella nodded in agreement, waiting for Lindsay to finish. As soon as the other CSI started putting the camera away, she began to examine the body. "He has some bruises on his face; Sid should be able to tell us more about them. Otherwise there's no apparent cause of death just from looking at him."

Lindsay stepped over and together they rolled the body on his side. Angell reached in with a gloved hand and pulled his wallet from his back pocket, flipping it open and pulling out the ID. "Says here his name is Tripp Norton--that's Tripp with two 'P''s. And he has an NYU student ID. I'll pull his records, see what classes he was in and who his roommates are, if he has any."

"He was most likely heading home after a night out when he was attacked," Stella said as they laid him back down on the ground. She pointed to a stamp on his hand, smeared and unreadable from the snow. "We also have a pretty good idea of when he died."

"We do?" Angell asked, impressed.

"The ground is dry underneath him--no snow."

"Which means he hit the ground before the snow did." Angell tugged at her lower lip with her teeth. "I was heading home when it started snowing last night, between one and two AM."

"Heading home?" Stella asked with a grin. "Where from?"

Angell just rolled her eyes and shook her head, grinning but not answering as she looked through the wallet for more information about their victim. She pretended to not notice the glances Stella and Lindsay exchanged before turning their attention back to the body.

"So time of death is probably around one AM," Lindsay said as she pulled a plastic bag and zip tie from her kit. Stella had joined her and was doing the same on the other side of the body, each covering the victim's hands with the bags and securing them to prevent the loss of any evidence. "Hopefully he got a hand on his attackers and evidence of it is still here. That snow didn't help us any. It's likely that most of the trace evidence we would have had has been compromised by the snow, especially if he died closer to two AM when the snow started falling. His body temperature would have warmed it enough to start melting and wash the trace away."

They worked quickly, wanting to release the body to the ME and get out of the cold. The snow was the biggest hindrance, since while they had uncovered the body, they had no way of knowing if anything else important was hidden away beneath it. Finally, Stella declared they were finished. Digging around in the snow for potential evidence was too risky; they would be more likely to damage or destroy it than find anything.

"We're going to have to wait for the snow to melt," she said as she packed up her kit. "It's supposed to get warmer tomorrow, so we can check back then. We'll have to see if what we already have is enough to determine who killed Tripp Norton."

"And why," Angell said as she offered the victim's wallet back to them to bag. "He's wearing a nice coat, expensive shoes, and has over two hundred dollars in cash. This wasn't a robbery."

"No," Stella said, looking down at the battered face of the victim, "he was targeted for a reason. This was personal."


	3. Chapter 3

**Note:** This was written for the CSI Big Bang. Thanks to Elenna for the beta. Thank you to everyone who has given feedback, it's greatly appreciated! This can be considered a sequel to _Titania Falling_.  
**Content warning:** Some chapters include discussion of sexual violence.  
**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable CSI: NY characters, settings, etc. are the property of Anthony Zuiker and CBS. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of the CSI franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

::

Returning to the precinct, Angell settled in for a long afternoon of phone calls. She had pulled Norton's ICE (in case of emergency) contacts from his cell phone while at the scene, but "Mom and Dad" were listed with an out-of-state phone number. A quick look up in the system verified that they were indeed residents of Maine. Learning that a loved one was dead was never easy; learning about it over the phone was even worse, which meant calling their local PD and asking if they could make a courtesy visit. She felt lucky the detective she spoke with agreed, though it meant she'd probably get to return the favor in the future.

Her next phone call was to the office of the Provost at New York University, both to inform the university of the death as well as get the needed information about Tripp Norton. What she hadn't expected was being transferred directly through to the Provost, or to find herself setting up a meeting with the man. While he hadn't known Norton personally, he seemed genuinely upset about losing a student. Something about his voice reminded her so much of her mother's father that she was suddenly reminded of lazy afternoons at her grandparents' lying in the grass and listening to stories of her mother as a child. It was a bit embarrassing how relaxed - and ready to fall asleep - she was by the time the call was finished, though she had a feeling that ability served him well in his position.

She rubbed her eyes, wondering if she could get away with dropping her head on her desk and napping. When she opened them, a large cup of coffee had appeared in front of her. She turned with a frown to see Flack dropping into the chair by her desk.

"I didn't even hear you come up."

"Well, you were making a pretty good attempt at sleeping with your eyes open," he grinned before lifting his own cup of coffee to his lips and taking a long drink.

Angell shook her head, reaching for the coffee on her desk and lifting it close. Just the smell of it was enough to help her wake up. "If I weren't already seeing someone, I could kiss you."

"Probably best you don't, you know, since I'm seeing someone, too."

Don quirked his eyebrows, and she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. She took a drink to distract herself from the look on his face--not that it helped. He still looked extraordinarily pleased with himself when she turned back. Angell just rolled her eyes: he could be incorrigible.

"If I remember correctly," he continued in a low voice, "the whole reason someone headed back to her place last night was so she could sleep in this morning."

"Don't remind me," she retorted. "I'm not even supposed to be here today."

"Shoulda just stayed. You'd have gotten more sleep."

She snorted in amusement at that suggestion. "More sleep? Really? Somehow I doubt that." Much to her continued mirth, he began to blush, even his ears turning a light shade of pink. "There might have been quite a few things happening, but sleep probably wouldn't have been one of them."

"Is that a challenge?" Don asked, fixing her with a suggestive look that made her stomach tighten in anticipation. He leaned closer and said softly, "Because I'm sure you could try again, you know, to see if you're right about not sleeping."

"Oh, you think so?" She tossed her hair over her shoulder in response, ready to take the verbal sparring further. Then she caught sight of Deputy Inspector Whitford entering the squadroom and quickly leaned back in her chair to turn the conversation to more work appropriate topics. "How's the Birkley case coming?"

"Just closed it," Don said, leaning back as Whitford passed her desk. He shifted his coffee cup to his other hand as he added, "It was pretty obvious once Danny and Hawkes pulled together the last bits of evidence. Made it easy to get a confession out of him."

"Nice. You heading out?" He'd already been in by the time the Lieutenant had called her; his shift should be ending soon.

"Nah, Lieutenant asked me to stick around. Just about the only ones on the next shift who haven't called in are Thacker and Scagnetti."

"And Thacker's on light duty, still recovering from his broken leg."

"Broken ankle," he reminded her, though she just shrugged at the discrepancy. "We should be getting some relief in the morning, pulling in from some of the other precincts. But until then, someone's got to mind the store."

"Ain't that the truth." She stifled a yawn after her reply, eliciting a chuckle from him.

"You know, that offer still stands. And my place is closer to the precinct than yours."

Angell shook her head slightly as her cell phone beeped with a text message from Sid. "You know what, I think I'll leave you with your delusions. Tonight I'm planning on getting some sleep."

With that, she stood and headed for the door, glancing back briefly over her shoulder. He just laughed softly as he made his way back to his own desk. If he was lucky, he'd have some time before the next call came in, but then his cell phone began to ring as he sat down. Glancing at the caller ID, he stood and pulled his jacket on, answering as he started for his car.

It was going to be a busy day.

::

He'd been waiting at the scene for a while, about to call the lab again, when the door opened.

"Glad you could make it," Flack said, eyebrow raised, as Hawkes and Mac joined him.

"Just be glad we got here," Mac said, looking around. They were standing in the Ranger's locker room at Madison Square Garden, and he could hear the crowd chanting at the players out on the ice. "Half the lab is out with the flu today. There are more calls coming in than we have teams to go out."

"Yeah, we had another come in on our way here. We ended up dropping Danny off to process that scene. Scagnetti's going to have to give him a lift back to the lab," Hawkes explained, moving further into the locker room and finally getting a good look at the body. "Who's our vic?"

"Meet Jarrett Elliot," Flack said, motioning to the body.

He was near the back of the locker room, close to the doorway into the showers. A shelf of towels had been pulled off the wall, the board resting partially on his body with towels all over him and the floor.

"He's not suited up to play?" Mac asked as he pulled the camera out of his case. The young man, most likely in his early twenties, was wearing street clothes instead of a hockey uniform. "How did he get in here?"

"He's a hockey player, but not for the Rangers. Or not yet, as it was." Flack shook his head in disappointment; he'd heard of the kid - anyone who followed college hockey had heard of him. "He was last year's Hobey Baker Award winner as a junior at the University of Minnesota. He skipped his senior year to join the Hartford Wolfpack this season. They're the feeder team for the Rangers, who, word has it were going to grab him in the upcoming draft."

"So he was up here for the game. And since he was going to be joining the team, he was probably allowed into the locker room," Hawkes mused out loud as he watched Mac take pictures. He couldn't get a good look at the body until the towels were moved, but they needed to get the pictures out of the way first.

"Who else would have had access?" Mac asked, stepping back from the body to get pictures of the rest of the scene. Hawkes stepped in and started uncovering the dead hockey player.

"The team, coach and assistants, managers--oh and the owner's assistant who would really like for you to get this cleaned up so the team can come back in here when first period is over." Flack grinned at the look that crossed Mac's face. "Don't worry, I told him they'd get it back when you were done. And that he should probably have another room ready for them to use."

"Good." He glanced over at Hawkes, who had started examining the body. "What do you have?"

"Lividity, temperature, and lack of rigor all suggest he hasn't been dead long; thirty minutes maybe an hour tops. He has some bruising along his throat," Hawkes said, motioning to the victim's neck, "but it doesn't extend around his neck, meaning it isn't from strangulation. That suggests he most likely hit or was hit by something. The bruise is very recent – likely occurred just prior to death - and depending on how hard the impact was, it could have contributed to what killed him. We'll have to wait and see what Sid says. He has some bruises and scratches on his arms. I'd say he was in a fight."

"It's a hockey game, of course he was in a fight," Flack muttered. He held his hands up at Mac's look. "I'm just saying, show me one hockey game where there wasn't a fight."

"I thought those usually occurred on the ice," Mac said as he took one final picture of the room.

It was a fairly typical locker room: there was a stand holding some extra hockey sticks, helmets, and other gear by the door with walls of lockers extending from either side, benches sitting in front of them. It looked like every other locker room he'd seen. There were laundry baskets for dirty uniforms by one side of the door to the showers and an empty spot on the other side where the shelf and clean towels had been.

"On the ice, in the locker room, at the bar..." Flack shrugged. "Take your pick. They pretty much happen anywhere."

"This one turned deadly. Who kills a rising hockey star at a game?"

"Someone who doesn't want him making it into the NHL?" Hawkes surmised as he pulled some paper evidence bags from his kit.

He carefully fitted them over the victim's hands. Finished with pictures, Mac joined him and began bagging trace evidence they found. Like most locker rooms, there was plenty of evidence of people throughout the room; it was their job to determine what was related to the crime and what was there due to the nature of the room.

"Whoever it was, they turned the Rangers' locker room into a crime scene," Flack said hotly, motioning around him. "If that isn't desecration, I don't know what is."


	4. Chapter 4

**Note:** This was written for the CSI Big Bang. Thanks to Elenna for the beta. A big thank you to everyone who left feedback, it's greatly appreciated! I'm just sorry it took so long to respond to it and get this next chapter up. This can be considered a sequel to _Titania Falling_.  
**Warning:** Future chapters will contain non-graphic discussion of sexual violence.  
**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable CSI: NY characters, settings, etc. are the property of Anthony Zuiker and CBS. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of the CSI franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

::

"Okay, Scagnetti, what was important enough to call me off a body at the Rangers game?"

"Hey," Scagnetti said with a grin, "if you don't want to be here, you could have left the Doc instead."

"What? You think I can't handle the case?" Danny grinned as Scagnetti rolled his eyes. "So, what's with our dead guy?"

"That would be Dirk Oswald. Apparently he decided he wanted to see if he could pull off the 'murse' style. Only it wasn't his to begin with." The detective motioned to a large SUV parked near the scene, a man standing next to it who looked decidedly shaken. "Then he decided to try to play chicken with an SUV. You can see who won."

"Murse?"

"You know, 'man purse'? Hey, that's what my son tells me they're called," Scagnetti said with a shrug as he motioned to the DB, who lay sprawled across the sidewalk, his body twisted into an unnatural position by the impact. Next to him lay a bright yellow purse with a broken strap, its contents scattered across the cement. Several people stood around the crime scene, some just gawking, but others speaking with the uniform about what happened. "Like I said, it wasn't his."

"Who does it belong to?" Danny asked as he set his kit down.

Scagnetti motioned to a young woman over to the side of the scene. "That would be Miss Cynthia Carland. She says he came up from behind her, grabbed the purse, and ran."

"Right out in front of that Suburban?" Danny asked incredulously, shaking his head. He knew most criminals were pretty stupid - and purse snatchers were definitely scraping the bottom of the barrel - but they usually knew to look both ways.

"Well," Scagnetti hedged as he glanced down at his notes. He flipped through a few pages, then said, "We've got a lot of conflicting statements. According to one witness, he tripped and fell into the street. According to another, he jumped out purposefully trying to flag someone down. Another swears it was the hand of God extracting justice for what he had done."

"The hand of God?"

"Yeah. And then there's our knight in shining armor." Scagnetti motioned over his shoulder at a young man standing near Cynthia Carland. "Dillon Lynch. New to the city, just moved here from Nebraska for grad school at Columbia. Says he heard a complete stranger yelling that someone had stolen her purse and he tried to help. He figured any guy running with a purse in the vicinity of a woman screaming that her purse had been stolen was probably the culprit - reasonable assumption. So, he said, he grabbed for it and tried to get it back. He tugged, Oswald tugged, the strap snapped-"

"And Oswald goes flying back into the traffic behind him," Danny said, finishing the statement. "Physics."

"You aren't going to start quoting all those laws by Newton and Einstein to me, are you?"

"Nah. It's just that in this case, with both of them pulling on the purse strap they were canceling each other out. The strap breaks, which would be the same as if Lynch had let go. Suddenly Oswald isn't pulling against a reciprocal force - it's just him pulling. The momentum propels him out in front of a vehicle."

"That the driver can't stop in time to avoid hitting him, sending him flying back onto the sidewalk."

"Boom. SUV wins," Danny said, looking back over at the vehicle. It had minimal damage, but that wasn't unexpected, really. The human body was surprisingly fragile, and those machines were very sturdy. "Okay, so we know what everyone saw happen. Now to find out if that is what happened."

He grabbed his camera to start taking pictures, so the ME's assistants could remove the body. Then he'd see what the evidence told him about the incident.

::

Stella had just reached the autopsy room doors when Angell stepped off of the elevator, cell phone in hand. "You got the page also?"

Angell nodded. "I was expecting it to take longer with so many people out sick. Maybe we caught him at a lull."

"I'm sure we're about to find out," Stella said as she pushed the doors open.

Much to their surprise, the room was bustling with activity. There were several bodies laid out on the tables, and it looked like Dr. Zhao, who Stella was fairly certain had transferred to the night shift, was in as well. The person who had paged them, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen.

"Sid?"

Dr. Hammerback peered out from where he stood around the corner in one of the side rooms. "Ah, Stella, Detective Angell. Very good."

He came out, holding something in his hands that Angell really hoped she didn't recognize. He seemed to remember what he was carrying, flagging down one of his assistants and handing it off to them. "Sorry," he said as he pulled his used gloves off and replaced them with a new pair. "There was a near mishap with Mr. Stevens' brain. Don't worry, it wasn't for a case; he mostly likely died of natural causes, but the family asked for an autopsy. We have an intern in today, so I decided to let him get a little supervised experience cutting. Unfortunately, I don't think his stomach is cut out for this..."

Angell glanced over at Stella, secretly relieved to see she wasn't the only one probably a little too amused by the story. And if anyone asked, she was blaming it on the lack of sleep. It was supposed to be her day off, and if only half the precinct hadn't called in sick, it shouldn't have mattered what time she'd finally gotten home last night. Instead, she'd only managed four hours of sleep before the Lieutenant unexpectedly called her to come in.

"I take it you haven't been hit quite as hard by the flu down here."

"Not as hard as other divisions," he said, nodding. "We've got a few people out, so I asked Evan to come in. But that was mainly because we seem to have been hit harder than usual today in other ways. If I didn't know better, I'd say that the criminal element got the memo that the flu has half of the NYPD out sick. It seems they're all out killing one another today. You know, it reminds me of back in my resident days-"

"Sid," Stella interrupted, "no offense, but the lab is one of those areas hit hard. I've got to hurry so I can head back up to help Lindsay with the evidence."

"Of course," he said, folding the sheet covering Tripp Norton back as he started explaining his findings. "As I'm sure you noticed at the scene, this young man was definitely in a fight. I'd say it took place just before he died. He has significant bruising, not just on his face, but also on his arms and torso. They haven't developed much on the surface--not enough time for the blood to flow outward."

"So he was beaten to death?" Angell asked, pulling her notebook out to jot down what he was telling them.

"I don't believe so. While he would have been hurting, none of his injuries from the beating would have been enough to kill him."

"Hurting?" Stella looked up from the body. "How badly was he beaten?"

"Broken nose, couple of cracked ribs, and he took at least one hit that bruised his kidneys. It would have been excruciatingly painful, but not deadly."

"Then what did kill him?"

Sid shook his head. "I'm not entirely certain, I believe it's up to you to find that out." He lifted a sealed glass jar filled with a mostly clear liquid and handed it over to Stella. "His stomach contents. It would appear that he was partaking in a mostly liquid diet prior to his death."

"That would make sense--he was dressed like he had been out partying."

"Most likely. I've also sent blood and urine to toxicology, so perhaps they'll be able to tell you more. And his fingernail scrapings are on their way to DNA; it looks like he got a hit or two of his own off."

"Thanks, Sid," Stella said as she took the jar gingerly, holding it between her thumb and forefinger.

"Oh, and there's these." He pulled a brown bag from one of the lower shelves of the cart by the autopsy table. "Your victim's clothing. And something else." He opened the bag and removed a small, clear evidence bag containing an even smaller white plastic container. "I found this when we were undressing him. It was down his pants. There's a tiny amount of liquid inside."

"Down his pants?" Angell asked, trying her hardest not to laugh as she took the bag for Stella.

"Yes, well, young men do on occasion do the strangest things," Sid said. "And I say that having once been a young man myself."

"You, Sid? Never." Stella grinned at him as she and Angell left, stepping out into the hallway to head back to the elevator. As soon as the autopsy doors closed behind them, they both began to snicker.

"Down his pants?" Angell asked. "Guys may do strange things, but that's a new one."

"You're a guy, you've been attacked or possibly just followed, and are concerned you may be attacked. What do you do if you're carrying something you don't want them to find?"

"Stick it down your pants," Angell said as the elevator dinged its arrival and the doors opened before them. They stepped on together, Stella hitting the button for the lab. "They might check your pockets, but they probably aren't going to strip-search you."

"Exactly." Stella glanced over at her and the bag she was carrying. "We're going to need to test that liquid. If he was trying to hide it, then it might have something to do with his death."

::

Mac parked the SUV in the parking garage, joining Hawkes at the back to unload the evidence. An unmarked car pulled in behind them, which they both regarded cautiously - you could never be too careful these days, especially when evidence was involved - until Danny stepped out.

"Great timing, Danny," Mac said as he lifted one of the crates of evidence bags. "How was the scene?"

"Boring," was Danny's response as he pulled his kit and evidence bags from the trunk of Scagnetti's car. "We're talking about a serious case of karma. The guy was a purse-snatcher who died snatching purses."

"Karma doesn't mean justice, Danny," Mac reminded him.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Even if the guy deserved it, doesn't mean he deserved it." Danny shook his head as they walked over to the elevator. "But that doesn't mean this was murder. If the evidence holds up what the witnesses say, then it really was karma. If he hadn't grabbed that purse, he wouldn't have died." Shrugging, he changed the subject. "How about those Rangers? How's Flack dealing?"

"Flack?" Hawkes asked, looking at Danny incredulously. "He seemed fine at the scene. Why wouldn't he be?"

"The body was in the locker room, right? It was one of the team? Flack's practically the NYPD's biggest Rangers fan. I'd be surprised if he wasn't falling apart."

"It wasn't a member of the team," Hawkes said. "Yet, at least."

"Wait-" Danny hit the up button and turned to the other two as they waited for the car. "Not a Ranger yet? You don't mean that draft pick, Elliot-something?"

"Jarrett Elliot? Yes, it was him," Mac said as the car arrived with a ding. As they started moving up to the lab's floor they could hear the elevator next to them moving as well. "You've heard of him?"

"Heard of him? Yeah." Danny shook his head. "It was going to be a pretty big thing, him joining the Rangers. They were making a big deal out of it, at least. Everyone who followed the team knew he was going to be at the game--it was announced during the coach's previous post-game interview."

"So anyone with motive knew where to find him."

Hawkes frowned, thinking about that, as the doors opened before them. "That's just going to make our work more difficult. There's no good way to narrow down who knew where to find him."

"Just everyone watching that game," Mac said. The doors to the other elevator opened, revealing Stella and Detective Angell, who joined them on their way into the lab.

"Hey guys," Stella said, "Just getting back?"

"It's crazy out there, Stell," Danny responded with a grin. "Not enough of us to go around."

"How was the park?" Hawkes asked as he stepped closer, trying to get a look at the jar she was carrying.

"Cold," Angell replied, shifting the evidence bag she carried under her arm, "and snowy."

"Your vic?"

"Under all that snow," Stella said with a sigh, "which means our evidence is either damp from the melting snow or still out there underneath it. Yours?"

"Hit by an SUV," Danny said as he opened the glass door to the lab.

"In a locker room?" Stella asked in confusion.

"Another call came after we left," Hawkes explained as he followed Danny in, "we dropped him off en route."

"Fun. Hey, Stella, you want me to drop this off with Monroe?" Angell asked, about to follow the CSIs into the lab. "She wanted me to pick up copies of the crime scene and victim photos while I was over here."

"Sure," Stella said, handing over what she carried and staying with Mac out in the hallway. "And your case?"

"Jarrett Elliot, a rising star in the hockey world. Someone didn't want him to make it to the majors."

"Hmm." Her eyes narrowed when she saw his amused look. "What?"

"I was beginning to think I was the only one who'd never heard of him."

She shook her head with a laugh. "I don't follow hockey, Mac."

"Neither do I."


	5. Chapter 5

**Note:** This was written for the CSI Big Bang. Thanks to Elenna for the beta. A big thank you to everyone who left feedback, it's greatly appreciated! Trying to get back to posting two chapters a week, we'll see if this works. This can be considered a sequel to _Titania Falling_.  
**Warning:** Future chapters will contain non-graphic discussion of sexual violence.  
**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable CSI: NY characters, settings, etc. are the property of Anthony Zuiker and CBS. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of the CSI franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

::

Adam was already sorting through the evidence from another case--it looked like a bunch of towels that he had spread out on the light table--when Lindsay was ready to start on theirs. Grabbing Kendall, she handed off what little evidence there was from the scene while she started on the bag of clothing Angell had brought up from the morgue.

Starting with the boots, she struck gold almost immediately: there was a wad of gum stuck in the treads on the sole of one boot. She carefully scraped it from the shoe into a small vial and added a small amount of deionized water. Shaking the vial lightly, she placed it on her lab bench, slightly out of the way. Once it had time to rehydrate, she would check the solution to see if whoever had chewed the gum had left some DNA behind.

Setting the boots aside, she turned to the jeans. Carefully examining them, she was able to find a patch of dried mud near the cuff, along the inside seam. After photographing the spot, she carefully scraped the mud into a petri dish. After checking every inch of the jeans that remained, she decided there wasn't anything else to find.

Finally, she pulled the coat from the bag, turning it over in front of her. She wasn't expecting to find much, since she'd already gotten very lucky. To her surprise, as she flipped it back over again she found a smeared splotch of something on one of the sleeves. Intrigued, she opened up the photos she took at the crime scene. "Huh."

"What's that?" Kendall asked as she joined Lindsay at the bench. She had replaced the victim's wallet and cell phone in evidence bags that she added to the growing pile of processed evidence next to Lindsay.

"A stain on his coat. See here?" She showed Kendall the picture of the vic at the scene, pointing out how he lay in the snow. "See how his arm is bent and up against his torso? That's where the stain is. That portion of his coat wasn't exposed to the snow."

"You know, that looks like sputum."

"He was in a fight, we know that much," Lindsay mused aloud. "Let's say you're going to confront someone. What's one way to start a fight?"

"Spitting in someone's face," Kendall said with a grin as she caught on. "That would explain the smearing. He wiped the spittle off with the sleeve of his coat."

"We might have his attacker's DNA here." Lindsay grabbed the camera and right angle ruler she had been using.

"Anything else you need help with?" Kendall asked, watching as she placed the ruler on the coat sleeve to measure the stain, then took a picture of it.

"Actually..." Lindsay set the camera aside when she finished with the photos, pulling the last thing - the plastic vial - from the bag Sid had sent down. "There's a little bit of fluid remaining in here--run it through the GC-MS. It was found on our victim; it's likely connected to what happened in the park."

As Kendall took the vial and set up the gas chromatography-mass spectrophotometer, Lindsay carefully cut part of the stain from the coat. Placing that in a clear vial, she added a small amount of reagent to extract the DNA from the sample. After carefully filling out the paperwork for it, she slipped it into an evidence bag to take to Jane in DNA.

"Take a look at this," Kendall said, catching her attention before leaving the lab. "I've got the results."

Lindsay looked over the sheet, her eyebrows rising to her hairline as she read it over. "Okay, I need you to fingerprint that bottle. Compare them to the prints we took from the vic and run them through AFIS. We need to know where it came from."

"On it."

"I'm going to take this down to Jane and see if she can put a rush on it."

Kendall gave her an apprehensive look. "Good luck. I think she's as short-staffed as we are right now."

::

Sid was humming lightly to himself when Mac entered the autopsy room. Stella had warned him earlier that it was likely to be busy, but it wasn't nearly as bad as he had expected. Catching Sid's attention, he stepped over to the table where Jarrett Elliot lay.

"It's always a disappointment to see such bright young athletes on my table, Mac."

"What can you tell me about how he got here?"

"As you probably surmised, Mr. Elliot was in a fight. He has defensive wounds here-" Sid pointed to bruises along the back side of both Elliot's arms. "-and here."

"Someone attacked him?"

"I'd say that's most likely. I pulled several small wood splinters from his arms." he handed a glass petri dish with the slivers to Mac. "That said, I don't think he was fighting back very hard."

"Why not?"

"I couldn't find any other evidence of his attacker on him. Even considering the optimal physical condition he's in, had he been fighting back, there would have been signs. There's no bruising around his knuckles, skin under his fingernails, or anything like that."

"So no DNA evidence."

"Not of your attacker, no." Sid pulled off his glasses, clicking them back together down around his neck. "But I can tell you how he died."

"How?"

Sid pointed to the narrow bruise across the victim's neck. "It isn't a ligature mark, but it is what killed him. I'm not certain what it was, but he was hit hard in the neck with something--hard enough to collapse his airway. The added swelling of the injured muscles in his neck effectively cut off his ability to breathe."

"So he suffocated after getting hit," Mac said as he looked down at the bruise. "This plus the wood splinter--you might be on to something, Sid."

"That's good, it reminds me of-" Sid stopped mid-sentence after Mac raised the petri dish in salute and left before he could finish. "I guess it was something good."

::

"Hey, what's up?" Angell asked as she entered the lab. Lindsay had paged her about some of the lab results, and it looked like Stella was there as well.

"You're going to speak with his roommate, right?" Lindsay asked, holding a piece of paper in her hands. She had that look on her face--one that suggested she had a puzzle on her hands.

"Yeah, why?"

"Ask him if he knows anything about drugs."

"Drugs? Someone drugged him?" Stella asked.

"He drugged himself. GHB, to be exact." Lindsay showed them the vial that had been found in his clothing. "His fingerprints are the only ones on this, and they're all over it - including the inside of the lid - suggesting that it wasn't wiped down by someone else and his reapplied. The contents came back as GHB, nearly chemically perfect, so it probably wasn't made in someone's garage. We're still waiting on the tox screening and results from his stomach contents, but he could have been a recreational user."

As she spoke, a lab tech entered the room and handed Stella a results printout. Her eyes widened as she read through it, then said, "I don't think so. This isn't recreational use." She held up the sheet. "These are the lab results from his tox screening. With the amount of GHB in his bloodstream, he had to have taken a huge dose."

"Define huge dose," Angell asked as Lindsay looked over the paper.

"That's where things get finicky. It would take least ten grams in powdered form to kill him, given his body mass," Lindsay explained. "This is liquid, so the concentration isn't going to be as high. I'm still working on calculating the concentration of the liquid, but I'm guessing it's at least a gram per milliliter."

"Suicide?"

"That doesn't explain the beating," Angell said, "and why commit suicide in the park after a night out?"

"But how else would he end up drinking this much? GHB is too salty for anyone to drink that much without realizing. Plus his prints were the only prints on that bottle."

"But," Stella said, "that bottle didn't hold ten milliliters, which is what it would take at a one-to-one-ratio. It only holds about two milliliters. He may have thought he was only drinking a small amount. He may not have realized that someone had slipped him more earlier."

"Still, that means someone would have slipped him a lot of GHB--at least another eight milliliters," Lindsay pointed out. "I just don't see how he couldn't know he was drinking that much."

"It says his blood alcohol level was pretty high, too. He may have had several drinks." Stella held up the plastic vial that had been found on Norton. "Let's say he went out and had a few drinks. If this held about two milliliters, then we can call that the average dose. Say he had four drinks-"

"Someone could easily slip him a vial's worth in each drink," Angell finished, nodding slowly. "But that someone would have had to have been with him the entire evening, slipping him a dose each time he got a new drink."

"Possibly." Lindsay still wasn't convinced. "But GHB starts acting within twenty minutes. The second or third dose probably would have knocked him out. Unless he was slamming every single one of those drinks and they were all right in a row, I still don't see how it could work."

"It wouldn't be the first time someone drank like that. And he is a college student," Stella said, but without conviction.

"Either way, you're pretty sure the GHB is what killed him, right?" Angell asked, looking at her watch.

Lindsay glanced back down at the paper she held. "With those amounts, I can't see how he survived it. And if Sid says he didn't die from his injuries, this has to be what killed him."

"Okay." She looked up at them. "I'm about to leave for that meeting with his roommate. I'll run the drugs past him, see if he knows anything. Even if he doesn't know about the drugs, he should know where Tripp was partying last night."

"We're pretty quiet for now; I'll go with you," Stella offered with a glance down at her watch.

Angell grinned as she opened the lab door. "The more the merrier."


	6. Chapter 6

**Note:** This was written for the CSI Big Bang. Thanks to Elenna for the beta. A big thank you to everyone who left feedback, it's greatly appreciated! Trying to get back to posting two chapters a week, we'll see if this works. This can be considered a sequel to _Titania Falling_.  
**Warning:** Future chapters will contain non-graphic discussion of sexual violence.  
**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable CSI: NY characters, settings, etc. are the property of Anthony Zuiker and CBS. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of the CSI franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

::

Their meeting with the Provost was mostly a formality. He extended the pledge that the university would fully cooperate with their investigation, starting by making all of Tripp Norton's student records available. His assistant, he explained, would provide them with those files after they met with Aaron Dixon, the roommate. Unfortunately, he had a meeting, but he knew they'd be in good hands with Blake Huber, who was waiting at the door.

"Detective Angell, shame we couldn't meet under better circumstances," Mr. Huber said, extending his hand to greet her.

She surveyed him coolly as they shook hands. He was probably about her height, though she was taller in her boots, with sandy blond hair and a suit that easily cost the same as her monthly rent if not more. He oozed a certain kind of charm that, while it probably went over well with reassuring students and parents, instantly pinged the same radar that con artists and used car salesmen always hit with her.

"Likewise," she said as they shook hands. He then turned and extended a similar greeting to Stella before escorting them out of the Provost's office. "Norton's roommate?"

"We'll be meeting him in his adviser's office. We, at the Office of Student Affairs, felt it was best to have a part of his support system available when he receives the news." Huber held the door for them, showing them out onto the snowy lawn.

"Then he doesn't know yet?"

"The Office of Student Affairs hasn't informed him as of yet. He was in a rather intensive analytical chemistry lab when you informed us of Mr. Norton's unfortunate demise."

His back was to them as he led them across campus, so he didn't catch the glance Angell sent Stella's direction, or how the other rolled her eyes at his back. It looked like Stella was just as unimpressed with him as she was. "Were they close?"

He paused, then looked back at them. "I wouldn't know. We have more than forty thousand students, Detective Angell. I can't keep track of who is whose best friend. That said, they're both juniors studying Molecular and Cellular Biology - Tripp was Pre-Med, essentially, and Aaron is dueling with Chemistry, though from his files it appears his adviser was trying to convince him to go Pre-Med, as well - and are both undertaking undergraduate research projects. As they've been in the course of study together for three years, now, I'd assume they must have found some redeeming value in their friendship."

They reached the Silver Center before either of the detectives could ask any more questions, instead following his lead up to the office of Dr. Eisenberg. Inside the office, two people were waiting: a young man who was presumably Aaron Dixon and an older man, maybe around Mac's age, who introduced himself as Dr. Edward Eisenberg.

"I took it upon myself to inform Aaron of what happened to Tripp, so he could have some time to process the information before the questions started."

Huber nodded. "I'll be just outside, then."

"Thank you," Stella said as he closed the door behind him. They then turned to Aaron, taking the seats that Dr. Eisenberg offered them. "I'm sorry for your loss, Aaron. But we do need to ask you some questions."

"Okay," he nodded, running his palms up and down the tops of his thighs.

He was nervous, Angell thought to herself as she spoke next. "What can you tell us about Tripp?"

"Um, what do you want to know?"

"Anything. You're his roommate and we," she said, motioning to Stella and herself, "haven't ever met him before. What was he like? Did he have many friends, enemies? Where did he like to hang out?"

"Well, he was Tripp, you know?" Aaron shook his head. "He was a bit of an ass, but people still liked him anyway. Especially girls--it seemed like he always had a different girl home each night. Well, maybe not each night, but you get the drift."

"He was a player," Stella said.

"Yeah. I wouldn't let my little sister near him, if you know what I mean. But he wasn't a bad roommate." He started picking at his sleeve cuff. "He was smart, and we had mostly the same classes, so we'd study together. It was good to have someone to compete with - we're both at the top of our class, so we'd compete with each other for highest grades on assignments and tests."

"Who did better?"

"I did, but that's because I studied more - I don't go out as much as he does- did."

"Where did he usually go?"

"Um, there's this club called Aura that he goes to a lot. He likes to meet people there--they usually don't come by the dorm. I don't think they're students."

"His friends?"

"I don't know if you'd call them friends."

"Then what would you call them?"

"I don't know, customers?" He paused at Angell's raised eyebrow, sighing and slouching back in his seat. "It's hard to explain. But whenever he went out, he always came back with more money. He once joked when he got back--I think he was drunk because he never mentioned it again--that it was good he worked in a research lab. And that he could hook me up if I wanted, since I worked in a lab as well."

"Do you know what he meant?"

"I-I think he was using the labs to, you know, make drugs or something."

"Aaron, why didn't you ever report it?" Dr. Eisenberg interrupted, aghast.

"Because I wasn't certain, and I didn't have any proof. If he was using his lab access to make drugs, he wasn't keeping them in the room. I know." Aaron glanced back over at Angell and Stella. "I looked. The next day, since our Anal Chem labs are at different times, I searched his stuff while he was gone. I- I knew that if drugs were found in our room, we'd both get into trouble, and I didn't work this hard to get kicked out of school just because of him. But I couldn't find anything, so I just figured he was drunk and wasn't making sense."

"Could he have stored them somewhere else?" Stella asked, just as much to Dr. Eisenberg as to Aaron.

"I don't know," Aaron said. "I don't know what the lab he's in is like, but I wouldn't dare store something like that in mine. But he might have a little more freedom than I do - I mean, the lab he's in has even listed him as a PI on one of the university's mini-grants they're applying for. Dr. Tojo wouldn't ever do anything like that with me."

"Dr. Eisenberg?" Angell asked.

"Oh, I--," he took his wire-rim glasses off, polishing them on his sleeve. "Tripp Norton was a student in Dr. Stoddard's lab, and yes, he was listed as one of the principal investigators on a project members of Ben's - Dr. Stoddard's - lab put together. I believe it was a combination of two graduate students, a research assistant, and Tripp. But regardless, Dr. Stoddard wouldn't have stood for someone hiding drugs in his lab. If he found out, Tripp would have been expelled in an instant. And, unlike other researchers who depend on their students to do all the lab work, Ben is in that lab daily, assisting with the work. I can't see how Tripp would have been able to hide drugs of any kind in there."

"Would he have been able to make them?"

"Without a doubt." Eisenberg said, Aaron nodding in agreement. "Tripp is -was one of our brightest students. If it can be formulated in a chemistry lab, he would have been able to do so."

"Is there anything else you can tell us, Aaron?" Angell asked, turning back to the undergraduate.

"Not really."

"You weren't worried when he didn't come home?"

"I figured he just hooked up with someone. If he wasn't bringing a girl back to the dorm, he was staying at her place. He'd been doing more of that lately - girls don't always like waking up to find out there's another guy in the room."

I don't blame them, Angell thought to herself as she glanced down at her notebook. Aaron had done a pretty good job of introducing them to their victim. Now just one more thing. "Aaron, we'd like to see your dorm room to take a look at Tripp's things."

He glanced over at his adviser, who nodded briefly, before looking back at them. "Okay, I guess. Ummm, it isn't very clean. I haven't done laundry yet this week."

"Don't worry." She grinned reassuringly. "I have four older brothers. I'm sure I've seen worse."

Aaron looked relieved as he stood. "Okay, then, um. We're up in the dorms by Union Square. Palladium Hall--I can take you there, I guess."

"Actually, Aaron, I'd like to speak with the detectives for a moment," Dr. Eisenberg cut in.

"Oh, okay. Well, Tripp and I are in room 212. I'll meet you over there."

"Actually," Stella said before he left, "we'd prefer if you waited outside the room for us. It's a protocol thing."

He nodded, then left the office, closing the door behind him. After he was gone, Angell and Stella turned to Dr. Eisenberg. "You had something?"

"There have been rumors," he said quietly, suddenly looking very tired. "Rumors that students were using the biology and chemistry labs to produce drugs. We've been cracking down on access to chemicals, but with students like Tripp and Aaron, who have jobs in those labs, you can't be too restrictive. There has to be some level of trust so they can do their jobs without having to stop and ask every time they need a chemical."

"Was Tripp ever implicated?"

"No, names weren't ever mentioned, but I do wish Aaron had come to me. With what has been going around, it would have been enough for our department to open an investigation."

"Do you think Tripp was manufacturing drugs in his lab?"

"I would like to think that Ben would have been able to prevent that, but none of us are in our labs twenty-four hours a day. And with an undergraduate research project, Tripp would have far more freedom to come and go than other students--he would have had keys and security codes to get into the lab whenever he wanted." He sighed harshly, then stood. "When it comes down to it, any student who knows the schedules of the others in the lab would be able to avoid getting caught."

"So it is likely that he was."

"Very likely, but I can't say definitively at this time. However, I think this has been the wake-up call we needed. I'm going to speak with our department heads about an immediate inventory of the chemicals used in all the labs. We'll be able to see if there is any abnormal use anywhere."

"I'd like a copy of the results, if you don't mind," Stella said. "It might help us with our case."

"Then drugs are involved?"

"Yes, and considering how chemically perfect it was, it could only have been produced in a lab with access to the proper chemical ingredients. This isn't something someone cooked up in their kitchen out of cold medicine."


	7. Chapter 7

**Note:** This was written for the CSI Big Bang. Thanks to Elenna for the beta. A big thank you to everyone who left feedback, it's greatly appreciated! Trying to get back to posting two chapters a week, we'll see if this works. This can be considered a sequel to _Titania Falling_.  
**Warning:** Future chapters will contain non-graphic discussion of sexual violence.  
**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable CSI: NY characters, settings, etc. are the property of Anthony Zuiker and CBS. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of the CSI franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

::

Aaron was waiting outside his dorm room when they arrived, having retrieved Tripp's file from the Provost's assistant and Stella's kit from the car. He looked at the large metal case she was carrying with interest. "What's that?"

"My crime scene kit."

"You don't-" His eyes grew wide when he realized the implications. "You don't think our room is a crime scene, do you?"

"Not necessarily, but I need to document what we find in case we find something that could be useful in determining who killed Tripp."

"Oh." He frowned, then started when Angell motioned to the door. "Oh, sorry, just thinking."

He unlocked the door, waiting in the doorway while they entered the room. It was larger than the dorm Angell'd lived in during college; she could tell that much right away. There were loft style beds on either side of the room, with doors - closets she assumed - at the foot of them. "Which side was his?"

"That side." he pointed to the left. It was slightly less messy than the right, but still very obviously the dorm room of a university-aged male. Angell glanced over in time to see Stella sigh softly and pull on a pair of gloves.

"Do you notice anything out of place?" Angell asked, taking the gloves that Stella handed her.

"Um, no, not really. I mean, his side always looks like that."

She wasn't really surprised - if something had been off, he would have noticed, especially when his roommate didn't come home. While Stella started going through the desk, she opened the closet and started looking around. There were mostly button-down shirts hanging in there, with a couple of jackets and lab coats. Flipping through them, she recognized most as designer labels - somehow this kid was getting his hands on money, and lots of it. Frowning, she started looking through the stuff on the floor of the closet. Behind her, Stella started on the dresser, having found nothing in the desk.

Pushing aside shoes, clothes, notebooks, and the other detritus that accumulates at the bottom of a closet, she was ready to call it quits. If Tripp was messing with drugs, he was smart enough not to bring them back to his dorm room. Then something caught her eye in the back corner, partially hidden under an old towel (and boy wasn't she glad for the rubber gloves, digging through someone's dirty clothes and towels). Reaching back, she pulled out a small, empty plastic vial, very similar to one she'd seen before.

"Angell."

She turned to see Stella holding another, the bottom drawer of the dresser open in front of her. And it looked like that one contained some liquid.

"Got one, too," she said, holding up the vial she'd found.

"Those are from his job," Aaron offered from the doorway.

"His job?" Stella asked. She opened her kit, pulling out a well plate and an eyedropper that she placed on the desk with the vial. She carefully measured a small amount of the liquid from the vial into three of the wells.

Aaron watched in interested as he answered, "Yeah, part of what he does includes testing for concentrations of certain chemicals. We've done the same tests in my lab: you filter the sample and dilute it by a known quantity. Then you transfer part of that to those small vials. They usually come in boxes of a hundred. Not that you always need that many, but you just put the filled vials in the box to send to the testing lab. Most labs on campus don't do those actual tests in house - the equipment is too expensive - so there is a single lab on campus that handles it for all of the university's research labs. A way to pool resources, so to speak."

"How often does he bring these vials back to the dorm with him?" Angell asked. Over at the desk, Stella had taken three bottles from her kit. She carefully added three drops from each to the samples, each to a different sample.

"Not very, it's just when one ends up in his lab coat pocket or something like that. He'll find them when he brings the coat back to run through the laundry. It's happened a couple of times. Why?" He looked over at what Stella had been working with, eyes widening to see that the sample in each well plate had turned a different color. "What's that mean?"

Stella and Angell glanced at one another, then Stella turned back to him. "We found a similar vial on him when he died, containing trace amounts of GHB. There isn't a direct color test for GHB that you can do at a scene like this, but there are three reagents - Cobalt nitrate, Marquis reagent and Mandelin reagent - used for color tests for other compounds that do react with GHB. Getting these three color results from those three reagents means that it is very likely that GHB or one of its analogs is present in this vial."

"GHB?" Aaron looked floored. "You mean, like the date rape drug?"

"One of its uses, yes."

"Wow, I mean, I- just- when I thought he was involved in drugs, I was thinking something like meth, not GHB." He pulled the one of the chairs by the door over and sat down, rubbing his hands down his face. "All those girls…" He paused, as if looking for the words to say. "He raped them, didn't he? No wonder when they woke up they-"

He shook his head. "Tripp, he just told me that he didn't tell him he had a roommate, and that's why they were panicking. And I believed it. But that wasn't it, was it? He-he drugged them."

"It's a possibility," Stella said quietly as she dropped the vials into evidence bags. "We don't know yet if he was making the GHB, just that he had some on his person when he died. He may not have lied to you."

Aaron shook his head again. "No, I meant what I said when I said I'd never let my little sister near him. He'd do it, if he had the chance--he'd do that to a woman. He saw women as conquests, not people. I just- I guess I was naive enough to not realize he actually was."

"Do you know the names of any of the women he brought back here?" Angell asked, taking a seat in the other chair and putting a hand on his arm. She needed that information, but she needed to get him past the grief and horror first. Those women were potential victims iand/i potential suspects.

"A few. There's some others I see around campus, but I don't know their names."

"Could you make a list for us?"

"I can try... Are they suspects?"

"Just persons of interest. Like Detective Bonasera said, we don't know if he was drugging any of those women, and we won't know until we have the chance to talk to them. It'll help us determine what happened to him."

Aaron turned and looked at Stella again, watching her put away her equipment. "Okay, um, I'll work on a list."

"Good." she handed him her card as she stood to leave. "you can just email it to me here, okay?"

"Yeah." he took it, reading it over before standing as well. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"I should have realized what he was doing. Maybe I could have stopped him."

"Aaron, predators like Tripp don't want to be stopped. There might not have been anything you could have done."

As they stepped out of the building and onto the sidewalk, Angell turned to Stella. "What do you think?"

"He truly had no idea what his roommate was up to," Stella replied. "He was probably so wrapped up in his books and studies that he didn't even think about the real reason those girls were in the room."

"Yeah," Angell nodded. "Something tells me Danny's vic wasn't the only one dealt a hand of karma."

::

"Hey doc, got anything for me?" Danny asked as he crossed the autopsy room to where Sid stood.

"Are you here for Mr. Oswald?"

"As long as it isn't Lee Harvey, it's my guy."

"Now there's a thought. I wonder what the ME on that case was thinking when he-"

"Sid, I need my results."

"I take it the lab is still short-staffed."

"Badly. Let's just say my double might be turning into a triple if we don't get any relief soon."

"Well, I can say that Mr. Oswald was pretty straightforward."

"How'd he die?"

"Massive traumatic injuries."

"Massive traumatic injuries?"

"It looks better on the death certificate than 'he got squished'."

"You got a point there," Danny conceded. He nodded at the body. "The car do all that?"

"It's my guess that it was more than just a car." Sid moved the sheet to show the grill transfer across the victim's torso. "These bruises are too high up on his body to be from a sedan; I'm guessing a truck?"

"SUV."

"Close enough. Those bruises are from the impact of his body against the SUV, the force of which would have caused massive amounts of damage. Most of his ribs are broken, as is his spine. There were more injuries when he impacted the pavement. The force of that impact combined with the force of the collision with the SUV is what caused his appendages to be twisted. Both of his legs were broken, his arms broken and dislocated."

"Could he have survived it all?"

"Possibly. He would have had a very poor quality of life, but he could have survived. Except for the head injury."

"Head injury? He had a head injury?"

"While he didn't have much more than a few bumps in terms of cosmetic damage, he suffered a traumatic brain injury, most likely from his head impacting the pavement. In this case his brainstem was crushed."

"The brainstem is the portion of the brain that controls breathing, right?"

"Exactly. With it damaged, he was unable to breathe and expired almost immediately."

"So there was nothing hinky going on?"

"Define hinky?"

"No sign he was pushed in front of that truck?"

"He has a long scratch down his arm, but otherwise no bruising or anything like that."

Danny nodded: Cynthia Carland, whose purse had been snatched, had mentioned she'd scratched him trying to get it back. He'd already sent the trace from under her fingernails to DNA for testing. If it came back as Oswald's, it'd corroborate her story.

"Sounds good. Supports everything our witnesses have said so far. This might turn out to be pretty open and shut. I like that in a case. Thanks, Sid."

"Glad I made your day."

::

It was completely dark out when Stella came up for air from her lab work. She'd been running tests on the liquid found in Tripp Norton's dorm room, comparing it to the liquid in the vial found on him. Both were GHB and fairly chemically pure, though the vial found in his room was even more so: it was darned near perfect. They must have come from separate batches of the chemical. Frowning, she made a note to have the GC-MS to analyze the chemical again, this time to identify exactly what the differences were between the two solutions.

Stretching, she yawned and glanced across the lab. Danny and Lindsay had already left for the day, and Mac had sent Hawkes home not long after them. Mac himself was still there, carefully examining some of the evidence they'd found at their scene. Yawning again, she headed over to his workstation.

"How's it coming?"

"Mmm?" He glanced over at her from where he was examining the shelf that had been pulled free in the Rangers' locker room. "Not very good. This wasn't our murder weapon."

"It was supposed to be?"

"I was hoping it was--we need to close this one quickly. Apparently the owner of the Rangers has already called the Mayor a couple of times about the case. He's called the Commissioner, and the Commissioner called the Chief of Detectives-"

"Who called you."

"Exactly." He sighed, setting the board down on the light table. "I'm not going to have the team work faster, or longer when everyone is already exhausted, only to start making mistakes. But we're already getting a lot of pressure from the top."

"The kid was a hockey star. It's bound to attract attention."

"Yeah," he picked up the hand lens again, set to go over the edge of the board one more time to look for something - anything - that he'd missed.

"Mac, give it a rest for the night."

"Stella-"

"How long have you been here?"

"Oh, just a few hours."

"Uh-huh. When did you last eat?"

"Um-"

"Exactly. The fact you had to stop and think is proof it's been too long. Put that away, you're taking me to dinner."

"I am?"

"Yes, you are. Then we're going to go home and get some rest. And tomorrow Quinn's people will hopefully be here to help, so we won't all be run ragged."

"I see. And do I have any say in this?"

"You can pick the restaurant."


	8. Chapter 8

**Note:** This was written for the CSI Big Bang. Thanks to Elenna for the beta. A big thank you to everyone who left feedback, it's greatly appreciated! Trying to get back to posting two chapters a week, we'll see if this works. This can be considered a sequel to _Titania Falling_.  
**Warning:** Future chapters will contain non-graphic discussion of sexual violence.  
**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable CSI: NY characters, settings, etc. are the property of Anthony Zuiker and CBS. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of the CSI franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

::

Yawning, Angell opened the precinct doors, nodding at Officer Marks before taking another swig of the huge coffee she carried. Thankfully, it didn't look like the paperwork on her desk had multiplied overnight, something for which she was extremely grateful. She yawned again as she sat down, scrubbing a hand down her face as she started her computer.

"Well, if it isn't Sleeping Beauty."

She looked up and glared at Flack, who once again seemed to have managed another short night without trouble, looking fresh as could be.

"Ouch." He dropped into the chair next to her desk. "I thought the whole point of staying at your place was to get plenty of rest."

"Someone forgot to tell my neighbors."

"Fighting?"

She just raised an eyebrow and shook her head as she took another long drink of her coffee.

"Oooh," he grinned, leaning forward. "Need help getting them the message? Maybe a taste of their own medicine?"

"Flack," she chided, blushing bright red. Luckily, her phone rang, and he stood as she reached for it.

Leaning down, he whispered softly in her ear, "I bet I know ways to make you scream."

"Stop it," she hissed, motioning him to leave. He just grinned at her over his shoulder as he walked back to his desk. Clearing her throat, she took a deep breath and answered, "NYPD, Detective Angell speaking."

"Um, hi, this is Melissa Kenyon. I don't know if you remember me-"

"You reported the body in Union Square Park; we talked yesterday morning."

"Yeah, um, you said to mention anything out of the ordinary?"

"What'd you see?"

"Not me--Sebastian, the little boy I nanny for. I don't know if it's important, but I've never seen anything like it before. At least not there-"

"Ma'am, why don't you to start from the beginning?"

"Um, sorry. Okay. Um, some of the snow has melted around the bench where we always sit at the park. Sebastian was digging through it, and we found this little plastic screw-top bottle. I've never seen anything like that near this bench before. It's probably nothing, but-"

"Did you touch it or move it?" Angell stood as she asked, grabbing for her keys and cell phone on her desk.

"I didn't, but Sebastian picked it up. Well, he picked the one up; the other he didn't touch."

"Okay, good. Don't touch them, and don't let anyone else touch them. We're on our way."

"Oh, you mean they are important?"

"Very." She was about to hang up when she thought of something else. She had nieces and nephews around that age, and she knew what kids were like. "Wait- the vial Sebastian picked up. He didn't drink anything from it, did he?"

"No, it's empty."

"Good. If there's one there that isn't, don't drink the contents, okay?"

"Okay." Miss Kenyon sounded confused, but she didn't ask any more questions before they ended the conversation.

As soon as she was off the phone, Angell dialed Stella's number. Her cell went straight to voicemail, as did the phone at her desk. Frowning, she tried Lindsay - and got the same thing. Stella had mentioned they might be getting help around the lab, so maybe they were coming in late because they'd pulled so many long days? She hoped it wasn't because either of them were getting sick; the flu had already hit too many people, not to mention that she'd spent a good part of the day with them. She'd managed to avoid the bug so far, and she didn't want to get sick now. Shaking her head, she tucked her keys and cell phone in her pockets. She'd find out later.

"Need a hand?" Flack asked, coming back over to her desk.

"That'd be great. Neither Stella nor Lindsay are answering their phones," she said as she grabbed her coffee.

"Where're we going?"

"Union Square Park. One of the kids who found our DB may have found some evidence."

"Good kid, we should start training him to be a cop now," he joked as he walked with her to the door.

"Cute, Flack." She glanced over to see him grinning at her.

"I'm just saying," he said, pausing while pushing the door open.

"You coming?"

"Sure, but I'm driving."

"Oh, you are?"

"Yeah, so you can finish your coffee. And fill me in on the case."

::

Morning traffic meant it took a bit longer than usual to get over to the park. When they arrived, it was easy to spot Melissa and Sebastian. Melissa was sitting at the bench where all of the kids had been sitting the day before, and Sebastian was digging in the snow not far from her. She turned to them as they got out of the car, eyes widening when she saw Flack. He responded with that broad smile that had disarmed more than one female witness.

"Miss Kenyon," Angell said, reaching out to shake her hand. "This is Detective Flack. Thank you for calling about the vials. Where are they?"

"Right there," she said, pointing to a spot in between the bench and where the body had been found. "I've kept Sebastian over here, in case there were more of them, so he didn't mess anything up."

"Good. If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you a few more questions."

"Um..." Melissa glanced over her shoulder at Sebastian, who was happily digging away in the snow. "I suppose-"

"Do you mind if I chat with Sebastian?" Flack asked. Angell had gotten him up to date on the case on their way over. Kids were more observant than people thought, and he may have noticed something too.

Melissa seemed relieved and nodded. "Do you mind keeping an eye on him?"

"Not a problem."

"Thanks." She gave him a huge smile, and he had a feeling that Jess wasn't going to let him hear the end of this.

"Okay, Miss Kenyon," Angell continued as he made his way through the snow to the little boy, "do you recognize the man in this picture?"

Melissa took the picture of Tripp that Angell held out, looking at it closely. "No, I don't think so. Is that-"

She didn't finish, but Angell understood what she was asking. "Yes, it is. How about this man?"

This time it was a picture of Aaron Dixon that she held out. She didn't think that he had anything to do with the case, other than being Norton's roommate, but she needed to cover all her bases.

"No, I haven't seen him before."

"Miss Kenyon-"

"Melissa, please--the only person who calls me Miss Kenyon is Sebastian's mother."

"Melissa, do you live in this area?"

"No, I take the bus in from Manhattanville every morning."

"How about clubbing? Have you ever been to the club Aura?"

She shook her head. "I know where it is-" She motioned in the club's general direction to the northwest of the park, "-but I've never been there. My friends and I prefer to stay closer to home."

Angell nodded, taking note. From the corner of her eye she could see Flack over talking with the little boy. Maybe the kid knew something that could help.

"Whatcha working on?" Flack asked as he crouched down by Sebastian, who was carefully creating piles of hard-packed snow.

The little boy looked over at him, then back down at his piles of snow. "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

"But I'm not a stranger," Flack said, holding out his shield. "I'm a cop - one of the good guys."

"You work with the lady detective?"

"Yes I do."

"I like her, she's pretty. Like Miss Melissa."

"Uh-huh." Flack nodded in amusement at Sebastian's response. If the kid was saying that about Angell, he already had good taste. "Can I ask you a question?"

"You already asked me a question, two questions, even," Sebastian said as he formed another mound in the snow.

"Then can I ask you another one?"

Sebastian thought about it for a bit before turning his full attention to Flack. "Okay."

"Have you seen this guy before?" He showed Sebastian the extra picture of Norton that Angell had given him.

"When Dad takes me to the bodega, he's sometimes there."

"The bodega over there?"

"Uh-huh. On Saturdays when Mom has to work. We go to that one over there," he said, pointing at a corner bodega across the street from the park, "and we get candy and sodas and then we come to the park to play." He leaned in and whispered, "Don't tell Mom, I'm not supposed to have refined sugars. She says they're bad for me."

"She probably has a point," Flack said, hiding a grin.

"That's what Dad says."

"He sounds like a smart guy. Can I ask you another question?"

Sebastian considered his request before agreeing. "Okay."

"Have you seen this guy before?" This time he held out the picture of the roommate. Sebastian looked at it, then shook his head.

"Nope. Is he a bad guy?"

"No, I just wanted to know if you'd seen him."

"Why'd you want to know if I'd seen him?"

"He was the other guy's roommate."

"Oh." Sebastian thought for a moment, but quickly had another question. "Why'd you want to know if I'd seen the other guy?"

Flack paused--how do you answer a question like that? "You know how you were digging yesterday?"

"There was a dead person under the snow. It was icky."

"I bet." "Icky"--that was a good way to describe finding an unexpected body. "Well, that first picture is of the guy you found."

"Oh. Does that mean he won't be at the bodega anymore?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid so."

"Oh." He looked rather crestfallen, so Flack quickly tried to change the subject.

"I hear you were building a snow fort."

"Yeah! We were going to play cops and robbers!"

"Oh yeah? Which were you going to be?"

"A cop, duh. They're the good guys."

"Is that so?"

Angell interrupted them before he could say anything else. "Recruiting already, Flack?"

"You can never start too early," he said as he stood up. His legs were cramping a bit from crouching down like that.

She rolled her eyes, but grinned. "Melissa showed me where the vials are. I'm going to get the stuff from the car."

He nodded, following her as far back over as the bench where he waited. She soon returned with some rubber gloves and evidence bags, something every detective carried in the truck for moments like these. She handed one set of gloves to him before she tucked the bags under her arm and pulled the other set on.

"Oh, I see, I get to help?" he teased.

"You seemed pretty comfortable down there on the ground with Sebastian."

"Ask my knees again in a few hours," he joked.

"Poor thing." She patted him on the shoulder in mock sympathy, a teasing glint in her eyes, before walking over to where the bottles had been found.

Surrounded by several more of Sebastian's mounds of snow were two plastic vials. One was partially covered, the other lying on the snow. Flack shook his head. "Just what was that kid building over here?"

"Snow-henge?"

He snorted as he snagged the bags from her and held one open. "Here, you can do the honors."

She shot him a slightly concerned look. "Just how bad are your knees doing?"

"They're fine, but I've already been down on the ground today. It's your turn"

Angell pulled a face before she nodded and crouched down to get the bottles from the snow. After she handed the first up to him, she stopped and brushed at the snow. "Flack, I think there's more than just the two down here."

"How many do you think there are?"

"Four or five..." An odd look crossed her face as she stood back up.

"What?"

"Stella estimated that he probably drank five or so drinks that had been spiked with one of these. What if she's right about the number, but he didn't drink them at the bar?"

"Instead here in the park," he finished.

She nodded, pulling out her phone. "I think it went down here. Aaron Dixon said he'd never let Norton near his little sister. What if he got near someone else's? And they found out?"

"And gave him a beat down."

"And, like you suggested earlier, a taste of his own medicine. Tripp drank the bottles here and dropped them--they wouldn't have killed him immediately. That would have given him time to move over there-" She pointed to where the body was found. "-before he died."

He tipped his head to the side. "So this might be the primary crime scene."

"And I'm calling in reinforcements; maybe Stella or Lindsay is in by now. It's one thing to grab a couple of these to test for GHB and say they were found near where the body was. It's something else entirely to find where it all went down."

This time, Stella picked up on the first ring. "Bonasera."

"Guess who got to go to the park again today?"

"You?"

"Besides us. Sebastian and his nanny. But they did manage to do us a favor."

"What's that?"

"He found our primary crime scene."

"I thought we already had the primary crime scene."

"We had the place where the body was found, about twenty yards from where I'm standing. I've got at least five more of those vials down here in the snow."

"So maybe he didn't drink the GHB at the bar. I'm on my way."

Stella surprised them both by arriving within ten minutes. "I see you roped Flack into helping."

"No one else was around. And he volunteered." Angell shrugged while he pulled a face. "That was quick."

"I was helping out at a scene not far from here, making sure those Jersey CSIs got broken in right." Stella grinned at the two of them, about to say something else when Angell cut in.

"Sebastian found the bottles over here. He only found two and just touched the one, according to the nanny - I'm guessing this is it, since it wasn't under any snow." She handed the bagged bottle to Stella. "We found the others when we started bagging this one."

"This completely changes everything," Stella said.

"That's what Jess said," Flack commented. "I'll tell you what, if I found out a guy slipped Sam some GHB and raped her, I'd go after him."

"But why would he drink the GHB here? He's a chemist--he had to know it'd be fatal."

"What if he wasn't given a choice?" Angell asked. "He'd been beaten up pretty good. If given the choice between drinking or getting beaten on more-"

"I've seen his type before," Stella said, thinking back to Aaron's description of his roommate. "Cocky, sure of themselves. His blood alcohol content was pretty high."

"Cocky guys just get worse when they're drunk, start thinking they're invincible," Angell said.

"Or he may have just been too drunk to realize how much he was drinking," Flack pointed out.

"Either way, it gives us something to think about," Stella said as she opened her kit.

Flack looked down at his watch. "You got everything under control here?"

"Yeah," Stella looked up at them. "Your case?"

"Probably ought to check back in at the precinct. His agent was supposed to get back to me with a list of contacts and potential suspects this morning."

"You two go on, I'll be fine."

"I can stick around if you need," Angell offered.

"Nah, I got it. You go check and see if the roommate ever got that list to you."

The look in Stella's eye suggested that she had more in mind than just that, but Angell ignored it as they turned to head back to the car. Flack, on the other hand, was grinning like the cat that caught the canary. She was about to call him on it when Melissa Kenyon called out to them.

"Detective Angell?"

"I'll go get the car warmed up," Flack offered.

"I bet you will," Angell muttered under her breath, but just loud enough for him to hear it and laugh as he walked off. She turned to Melissa. "Yes, Melissa?"

"Are we going to find any more of those bottles?"

"We're hoping to get them all today. Since they're evidence in the case, however, if you do find any, let me know."

"Okay," she nodded. "You asked earlier if Sebastian drank anything from one. He didn't, but what if he finds another and does?"

"Get him to the hospital immediately and warn the doctors that he might have ingested GHB."

"Oh! That's what was in those?"

"Possibly. Detective Bonasera will need to test them back at the lab to be certain. Is there anything else?"

"Well, um, that detective who came with you-"

"He's seeing someone."

She must have been a bit curt, or at least a little too obvious, because Melissa's eyes widened in realization. "Oh, sorry."

Angell couldn't help but grin. "Don't worry. We get that a lot."

The car was idling when she got to it, Flack talking on his cell phone while he waited. He finished not long after she closed her door.

"Any news?"

"Nothing. And what Mac thought was the murder weapon probably wasn't."

"Ouch." She waited until he'd pulled out before mentioning what happened with Melissa. "I think you've got a fan."

"I'm not the only one."

"Huh?"

"According to Sebastian, you're 'pretty like Miss Melissa'."

"Yeah? Well, Miss Melissa was this close to asking for your number."

"Is that so? What'd you say?"

"I might have mentioned you were seeing someone."

He laughed as they pulled up to a red light. "A bit possessive, aren't we?"

She just grinned and quirked one eyebrow. "And don't you forget it."

They were both chuckling as the light turned green.


	9. Chapter 9

**Note:** This was written for the CSI Big Bang. Thanks to Elenna for the beta. Thank you to everyone who left feedback, I've been trying to respond to everything. But if I've missed you, your comments are still greatly appreciated. This can be considered a sequel to _Titania Falling_.  
**Content warning:** Some chapters include discussion of sexual violence.  
**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable CSI: NY characters, settings, etc. are the property of Anthony Zuiker and CBS. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of the CSI franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

::

The first thing Flack did after getting back to the precinct was check his email. There was nothing from Elliot's agent. Glaring at the screen wouldn't fix the problem, so he picked up his phone and called the guy. He wasn't surprised to get the secretary, or to be told that he was unavailable. Luckily, the secretary knew exactly what he wanted.

"I can send them to you myself," she offered.

"That would be helpful; this is something we need to have to help solve the case," he explained, covering his sigh of relief. With Mac not getting anywhere on the potential murder weapon, they needed something else to start with.

"Would you like a copy of his itinerary, as well? We had his entire four-day stay in the city planned out."

"That include a list of people he was meeting with?"

"Of course."

"Then, yes, I would like a copy. Thank you."

"Glad to help, Detective. You will find who did this, right?"

"I'm going to do my best."

He heard someone approaching as he hung up, and he looked up in time to see Angell depositing a bag of take-out from his favorite nearby deli on his desk. "Lunch time already?"

She snorted. "You spent the entire trip back from the park talking about food. You even made me hungry."

"Shame."

"You spent nearly five minutes expounding on the virtues of the perfect corned beef sandwich."

"And look at what I got for lunch," he said as he lifted his corned beef sandwich from its wrapper to take a bite.

She raised an eyebrow, giving him a slightly disgruntled look. He quickly backpedaled. "And it's a very good sandwich, indeed. I'm lucky to have a partner thoughtful enough to get lunch for me."

"You're lucky your partner doesn't eat that sandwich for you," she retorted. She relented after seeing the innocent look he gave her. "I'd say you owe me, but since you already did me a favor by helping out at the scene-"

"We can just call it even," he finished for her. "Speaking of the scene, that bodega across the street from the park."

"Yeah?"

"The kid said he's seen your vic in there on Saturdays."

"Hmm..." She flicked away a strand of hair that'd fallen down into her face. "It'd make sense. He lived in the area. I'll stop in later and see if they can give me anything more. Thanks."

"So I guess now it's you who owes me," he said with a smirk.

"Is that so?" She asked as she crumpled up her sandwich wrapper. She stood, leaning close to his ear and purring, "I guess I'll just have to pay up later."

He was laughing as she returned to her desk.

Opening up her email client, she saw that she had a message from Aaron Dixon. It had an attachment, which she opened to find a list of women's names. He ended his message saying that there were several others, but he wasn't certain of their names. He'd try to get an updated list to them later.

She quickly emailed him a thank you, then printed the list. Normally, she'd have handed it off to a uniformed officer to track down the names - and boy did she remember that thankless task of digging through files for senior officers when she was in uniform - but the unis had been hit as hard the detectives bureau. At least the databases were much easier to use these days.

Switching programs on her computer, she was about to search the first name when her phone rang. Seemed like it'd have to wait after all.

::

"Stella!"

She turned when she heard her name, looking back to see Dr. Jane Parsons from DNA just behind her. "Hi, Jane."

"I have your results. And the good news is that there is a match."

"Really?" She tucked the evidence bag she had been carrying up from her SUV under her arm and took the papers Jane offered. "Hmm... Thanks, Jane. I'll let Angell know."

"Stella!" Lindsay called out as she entered the lab. Kendall was with her, as was Angell, saving her a trip.

"Just the people I needed to see," she said, handing the DNA report off to Angell.

The detective wrinkled her nose before looking it over, then looked up with a grin. "It's about time we got something. I'll do some checking after Lindsay's demonstration."

"Demonstration? We're getting a demonstration?"

"Here." Lindsay handed her a cup containing a clear liquid. Taking it, she noticed that Angell held a similar cup. Kendall, on the other hand, was grinning like she already knew where this was going.

"What is it?"

"Just a simple saline solution--NaCl, nothing more."

"Why do you want me to drink this?"

"To have a control to compare to. That saline solution has a high enough sodium content that it should generally taste as salty as the GHB would have. The thing that was bothering me about drinking that much GHB was the taste, since I've read reports where people have gotten sick and thrown up just trying to drink equivalent of one of those vials. I didn't see how he could drink the one, let alone several if he did drink the contents of all the bottles that were found in the park."

Angell wrinkled her nose again but gamely took a sip from her cup. She quickly reacted, exclaiming, "That's awful!"

Trying hers as well, Stella had to agree. "Okay, so we know that the GHB didn't taste good. What's the second part of this demonstration? There had better be a second part."

"Don't worry, there is," Lindsay said as Kendall pulled out an Erlenmeyer flask with a small amount of liquid and an eyedropper in it. Using the eyedropper, the lab tech administered a few drops of the liquid to each of the cups. "It was the chemical impurity of the sample from the park that got me thinking. It was enough of a difference that there had to be a change in the formula--different batches made from the same chemicals wouldn't have that much of a discrepancy. So I isolated the chemical added to the second batch. That was when I realized the formula looked familiar."

Glancing down at her cup, Stella swirled it a bit before taking a sip. It was sweet now, without a hint of the saltiness that had been present before. "Huh."

"We've seen it before Stella, just in its natural form."

"The miracle fruit."

"Exactly, _Synsepalum dulcificum_. I also did some checking, and the grant proposal that Tripp Norton was a PI on was related to cancer research, specifically dealing with how chemotherapy affects a patient's appetite and the way food tastes. The loss of appetite makes it harder for them to get the nutrients they need and maintain a healthy weight. This was one of the things they were working on, isolating the miraculin - the protein from the fruit that causes things to taste differently than they normally would - to recreate it as a food additive that could be prescribed to their patients. That way they'd be more inclined to eat and stay healthier."

"And Tripp saw a golden opportunity," Angell surmised. "He knew that one of the biggest drawbacks of GHB as a date rape drug was the taste. By adding that chemical to the GHB, he could disguise the taste."

"Instead of diluting the drug in a drink that a girl might not finish, he could offer it to her as a concentrated shot," Stella continued. "She wouldn't even realize that she wasn't drinking alcohol. The initial effects would have been similar."

"And," Lindsay said, "he could stand in the middle of Union Square Park and drink six of those bottles without a problem. Without GHB's signature salty taste, he may not have even realized just how much he was drinking."

"It would have been like drinking a cocktail," Stella said.

"Not matter what it tasted like, he didn't stand a chance," Lindsay pointed out as she picked up another lab report from nearby. "I was able to calculate the actual concentration of the GHB, which ended up being about one point two five grams per milliliter. Those vials hold two mils."

"If he drank all six bottles worth, that's around fifteen grams. That's a more than deadly amount."

"And we have the DNA," Angell said, holding up the report Stella had given her. "More than enough to go ask a few questions."

::

Lindsay returned to the office after meeting with Angell and Stella, still mulling over the case as she sat at her desk and started to automatically file the papers away.

"Yo, Montana. Earth to Lindsay," Danny called out.

Looking up, she frowned. "How long have you been here?"

"The whole time?" he offered. "With Quinn's teams helping out in the field, Mac wanted me to get a few old reports finished."

"A few?" she teased, giving his "in" box a pointed look. They'd all been worked to the bone lately, with no time to do paperwork on top of lab work and testimony. But Danny hadn't ever been particularly good at keeping up in the first place, which led to his stack being much larger than anyone else's. "Let me guess: you're grounded until you get them all finished?"

"Actually, just the Cooperton case. But the A/V room is still in use, so I figured if I get a few more finished now--"

"You just might dig yourself out of the hole? Maybe get back on Mac's good side?"

"Me?" He gave her his best innocent look, holding his arms out. "Montana, I'm wounded."

Lindsay responded by rolling her eyes as she began filling out the forms needed for her case. "Poor thing."

"Ouch," he muttered under his breath before standing and rounding his desk to lean against hers, half-sitting, half-standing as he faced her. "How's your case?"

"Let's just say--" She sighed, shoving the papers aside as she turned and leaned elbow against the desk, looking up at him. "Let's just say that your guy wasn't the only one who got what he deserved, though in the long run, I'm not certain if purse snatching creates quite the karmic imbalance date rape does."

"Whoa, date rape?"

"Our vic was abusing his lab privileges to formulate GHB that he sold to other people. He used it on more than one unsuspecting woman himself."

"Someone didn't like what he was doing?"

"It looks like it. But that doesn't mean they should have killed him. They should have brought it to the police or reported it to the university administration. He deserved to go to jail, not die."

"So you're thinking someone forced him to drink all that?"

"Danny, he was beat up pretty badly. And he may have been drunk, but he had to realize that drinking that much GHB wasn't a good idea. He had a strong chemistry background; he'd know the effects."

"But you said there were no other prints on the bottle," Danny pointed out, playing devil's advocate. It helped to do this from time to time, bouncing ideas off one another and talking through their cases. "And with the absence of bruising to suggest otherwise, that kinda rules out him being forced to drink it."

"Forced as in it being poured down his throat, yes. But considering his injuries, our theory is that he was attacked, then given the option of further beating or drinking the GHB. He-" She paused, staring into space with wide eyes and he could practically see the gears churning in her mind.

"Linds?"

"More than one person," she said, standing quickly. "There had to be more than one person. With the snow cover after his death, we weren't able to get footprints or anything like that to determine how many people were a part of it. But there had have to have been quite a few. A large group, most likely; even just two or three might not have been enough to pressure him. But if he'd been beaten up and was then facing a further beating by five or six or more, yeah, he would have agreed to drink the GHB. Sid told Stella and Angell he would have been in excruciating pain. He wouldn't have wanted to risk going more rounds when he was greatly outnumbered--"

"Breakthrough?"

"Yes, thanks," she called over her shoulder before rushing out. "I need to talk with Stella and Angell about this."

"Yeah, great, glad to help," he called after her disappearing form. "Maybe next time we can work on my case." He sighed, glancing across the hall to the A/V lab - still in use. "Of course, the only breakthrough I need is to run the simulation on what happened."

::

"Hi, Rick," Angell said as she entered the interrogation room, Stella not far behind her.

Rick Prewitt looked like a model citizen on paper: 4.0 at NYU, volunteered at a shelter on the weekends, vice president of his fraternity, editor of the school paper, member of student senate - the list went on. He also had been a suspect in an assault two years ago. It turned out it had been a different person, but the DNA he'd volunteered to clear his name had been in the system ever since. Good for them; not so good for him.

She took a seat across from him at the table, setting the file folder she held down in front of her. He automatically glanced down at it, back up at her, over at Stella, then back to her. He was definitely nervous. That was also in their favor.

"Good afternoon, detectives," he said, licking his lips as he glanced between them again.

"Do you know why we asked you to come down?" Stella asked, leaning in.

"Um…" he glanced back over to her, caught off-guard. He'd been expecting the question to come from Angell. "I think the officer said something about a Tripp Norton?"

"Did you know him?" Angell asked, turning his attention back to her.

"More like I knew of him," Prewitt said as he shifted in his seat.

"How did you know of him?" Stella asked.

"My lil' sis knew him."

"Your sister?" Angell frowned at him before opening the file they had. "According to this your sister doesn't live in New York."

"No," he corrected. "My lil' sis. Zeta Omega Chi is the sister sorority to my fraternity, Tau Pi Xi. One of the things we do together is a big bro/lil' sis and big sis/little bro matching for each pledge class. It gives the new members a mentor in the other organization who they can meet with and talk to. My lil' sis knew Tripp Norton."

"How well did she know him?" Angell asked him, filing away the.

He shifted in his seat again. "Better than she'd like."

"Meaning he date raped her," Stella said.

Rick nodded, not saying anything.

"Why didn't she report it?"

He laughed. "Report it? To who? The university? And mar their precious reputation? Trust me, it wouldn't have worked."

"You could have reported it to the police," Angell pointed out.

"Erica didn't tell me until several weeks after it happened--she'd missed her period and was scared." He looked back up at them, shaking his head. "At that point, it would have been her word against his. I'm a journalist; I know how it works. You have no way to verify what happened because she didn't go the hospital, didn't have a rape kit done, so there's no way to prove anything happened. Besides she- she didn't even know who he was. One minute she was out partying with friends, the next she's waking up in a strange dorm room."

"Then how did you find him?"

He shook his head. "It was easier than I'd like to admit. My own brothers--my own fraternity brothers--knew who was selling date rape drugs on campus. Because they were buying from him. Their membership is under review now. Tau Pi Xi does not condone behavior like that. Once I had a name, I showed a photo of him to Erica's friends. They recognized him as the guy that was hitting on her at the bar."

"And then you took it in your own hands," Stella said.

"Someone had to do something."

"Tell me, Rick," Angell asked, leaning in closer. "Does your fraternity condone murder?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Note:** This was written for the CSI Big Bang. Thanks to Elenna for the beta. Thank you to everyone who left feedback, you've all been wonderful! This can be considered a sequel to _Titania Falling_.  
**Content warning:** Some chapters include discussion of sexual violence.  
**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable CSI: NY characters, settings, etc. are the property of Anthony Zuiker and CBS. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of the CSI franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

::

"Ah, Stella, Detective Angell," Sid called out as he made his way through the desks in the squad room. "Two of the people I wanted to see."

"See?" Stella asked with a perplexed look on her face.

"Yes." he held a report in his hand, waving it a bit as he spoke. "It appears that someone really wanted your victim dead."

"We know," Angell said, nodding back at the interrogation room. "We got him, and he confessed to everything--gathering up his frat brothers, beating up Norton, and forcing him to drink the GHB. He said he didn't realize it was enough to kill him, but that he felt Norton completely deserved it."

"I see. But he wasn't the only person trying to kill Mr. Norton."

"What?"

"If Tripp Norton hadn't drunk that GHB, he would still most certainly have died. Not then, but soon."

"How?" Angell asked.

"My intern."

"He was trying to kill Norton?" She wrinkled her nose in confusion.

"No," Sid chuckled softly as he shook his head. "No, no, no. He figured it out. Or at least mostly figured it out."

"I thought he couldn't handle autopsies," Stella mentioned, thinking back to their conversation in the morgue.

"Not so much the autopsy, as the, well-" Sid thought for a moment. "You've heard of super-tasters? Think of him as the world of scent's version of that."

"He has a very sensitive sense of smell."

"Very. That was what bothered him during Mr. Stevens' autopsy. He wanted to try again, so I had him observe Mr. Norton's. He detected a smell that didn't seem quite right. I didn't notice it, but I apparently don't smell with the same sensitivity that he does."

"What did he smell?" Stella asked.

"Garlic. A very faint whiff of garlic. We were discussing it, and, well, it was a great teachable moment. So we pulled Mr. Norton back out for further investigation."

"Why didn't you tell us?"

He shrugged. "By that time we already knew what killed Mr. Norton. We were just trying to assuage our curiosity."

"But you found something," Angell pointed out. "You wouldn't be here otherwise."

"Ah, yes. We ran a full tox screening--everything you could think of. It was a great chance for him to learn how to prep for the tests. I was expecting arsenic or a pesticide or other organophosphate. When those came back negative, we dug deeper."

"And?" Angell asked, motioning with her hands for him to continue.

"Selenium poisoning. It's a slow-acting poison, but it apparently makes you smell like garlic. Considering the concentration, it's my educated guess that he's been ingesting about five milligrams of selenium daily for some time."

"Someone else was poisoning him to death?" Stella asked, crossing her arms in front of her. "That doesn't make sense."

"If it's slow-acting, it could be the same person who just got impatient," Angell said, shaking her head even as she spoke. "But Prewitt is a journalism major; I doubt he knows much about selenium or selenium poisoning."

"No," Stella said quietly, "this was someone else."

"Whoever it is," Sid said as he handed his folder to Stella, "Tripp Norton isn't their first victim. I've seen it before. I was about to tell Detective Maka, as well; it's her case."

::

Mac was in the lab when Flack found him, bent over a microscope with Hawkes explaining something to him about what he was looking at. Both looked up when he entered the lab, Hawkes motioning to the microscope.

"Want to take a look?"

"No, thanks," Flack said, holding up his hands. "I try to avoid flashbacks to high school science class. I'm betting you found something, though?"

"Something, yes, not that it's too helpful at this point."

"Okay, I think you're going to have to explain that one to me."

"We have hair and fibers from the scene," Mac explained, motioning to the microscope "however the fiber is a blue synthetic."

"Blue?" Flack asked, his eyebrows rising nearly to his hairline. "Mac, most of the crowd was wearing blue at the game. It's a team color for both the Rangers and the Sabres, and trust me, I doubt those jerseys are one hundred percent cotton."

"I know. That's why I said it isn't going to be very helpful."

"But you said you found hair, right?"

"We did," Hawkes said. "Rather, Adam did. It was in the towels that were on the victims, but not one of his."

"So it likely came from the attacker?"

"Most likely."

"Great, we can go with that."

"Yeah, as soon as we find out who they came from. The attacker's DNA isn't in the system," Hawkes said as he moved from the microscope over to the computer set up behind him. "We also have a fingerprint on the shelf that fell. It wasn't in the system, either."

"We'll need exclusionary prints from the players and people working in the locker room," Mac continued. "At this point we're fairly certain the shelf wasn't the murder weapon. That print may have been left there through normal use, but we can't exclude the possibility that it was left there by someone else during the fight."

"But if it doesn't belong to someone who would normally be in the locker room and we do find him, we'll have comparison prints to place him at the scene," Flack said.

"Yes," Mac nodded. "You have something?"

"Just a list of everyone Elliot met with over the two days prior to his death." Flack held it up. "I've got a meeting with his agent back at the Garden tomorrow morning. He's going to know more about how well Elliot got on with everyone on this list, who he knew and who he just met."

"I'll go with you," Mac said. "His DNA and prints are as good a place as any to start."


	11. Chapter 11

**Note:** This was written for the CSI Big Bang. Thanks to Elenna for the beta. Thank you to everyone who left feedback, you've all been wonderful! This can be considered a sequel to _Titania Falling_.  
**Content warning:** Some chapters include discussion of sexual violence.  
**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable CSI: NY characters, settings, etc. are the property of Anthony Zuiker and CBS. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of the CSI franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

::

It was early the next morning when they were finally able to all meet in the precinct conference room. They brought their casefiles from both cases and spread them out on the table, along with several notepads and mugs of coffee.

"So," Stella asked quietly, "what have we got? Lindsay, have you finished with the Norton evidence?"

"Kendall and I finished with the last of it yesterday evening," Lindsay said. "The DNA from the gum was too degraded to be useful, and the mud was consistent with the park he was found in. Nothing helpful there, I'm afraid."

"Okay." Stella brushed her hair out of her face, trying to not get frustrated by the potential leads drying up even before they could get started. "What about the victims?"

"Matthew - or Matt - Tarleton," Maka said as she set out his photo. "Graduate student in biology at NYU. Died a week ago in his sleep. His body was found during a wellness check--he hadn't been to class or work for several days. After an intensive toxicology screening, Sid determined the cause of death to be selenium poisoning."

"Tripp Norton was an NYU student, too," Angell said, passing his photo over to Maka. "Undergraduate, junior in biology, pre-med. He lived in NYU dorms near the park where he was found and is a regular at the bodega on the corner. The owner recognized him, but didn't seem to like him much; apparently Tripp had a 'thing' with his daughter. He could be worth looking into further."

"Do we have any idea if they knew each other?" Lindsay asked as she started flipping through one of the files. The other three detectives grabbed files to start going through as well, while she continued. "NYU is a pretty large school, so even if they were in the same department, that doesn't necessarily mean they knew each other."

"Not to mention that it's rare for undergrads and graduate students to interact," Angell pointed out. "How many grad students did you hang out with in college?"

"What lab was Tarleton working in?" Stella asked Maka. "That might be the connection."

"Dr. Kyung Rhee," Maka said, reaching for her coffee. "Dr. Rhee said that Matt was an exceptional student, one of his best researchers. He was nearly finished with his PhD, and they were discussing him staying on to do a Post-Doc."

"So we have two smart biology students who have died of selenium poisoning. They couldn't have been randomly targeted; there's got to be more to it than that," Lindsay said with a sigh.

"I think there is." Angell leaned over the file she was reading. "It says here that Dr. Rhee's lab was participating in the university mini-grant program. Was Matt on that team?"

"I think so." Maka flipped through her file. "Yes, he was one of the principal investigators. Their proposal didn't make it into the final round, but it was one of the original ten."

"Tripp was a PI as well," Stella said as she leaned back in her chair.

"I think it's safe to say they knew each other," Maka said, "or at least knew of each other. The schedule for the mini-grant competition includes several large informational meetings that everyone involved was required to attend. They would have at least seen each other there."

"Not just that," Stella said. "Who else in the mini-grant competition knew them? We have two people from two different groups who have been poisoned in the same manner."

"Someone didn't want their proposals to win the grant," Lindsay surmised.

"No, they didn't," Stella said. "I think we just found our motive along with our connection."

"I can look into the grant proposals," Lindsay said, making notes on her pad of paper. "See who else was involved in the project and what their proposals were."

"We didn't consider a connection to the grants when we first opened the case," Maka said. "We should go back and talk with the rest of Matt's project team again."

"I'll go with you," Angell said, frowning slightly. She shook her head and continued, "We should speak with Tripp's group as well."

"I'm going to see if I can figure out how long the poisoning has been going on. Sid didn't have that, but selenium poisoning is a slow method. They were both probably getting it for quite a while," Stella said.

"If we can figure out when it started, we can get a better idea of who and why," Angell said.

Stella pushed away from the table and stood. "I'm going to go get started now--this isn't a short analysis. That way, we may have answers by this afternoon."

Maka glanced over at Angell, then turned back to the CSIs. "We'll meet you back at the lab after we talk to the grant proposal groups."

"Good idea," Lindsay said. "That'll give me time to go through the proposals."

"And," Stella said, "we'll be able to find out who else was trying to kill Tripp Norton."

::

Dr. Ben Stoddard's lab was on the fifth floor of Brown Building, tucked away in an inside corner in the middle of the building. The many corridors were like a maze, leaving both detectives relieved that they didn't work there. Following the instructions they had been given, they found their way to a mostly empty corridor - save a refrigerator labeled "no chemicals" outside the door to the lab they were looking for. Angell rapped lightly on the door, which was opened by a tall man with dark hair.

"Yes?" he asked, frowning at them.

Angell stepped back quickly, her eyes wide as she glanced at Maka. He caught her reaction, quickly covering his mouth and looking embarrassed.

"Oh, sorry," he said, blushing bright red. "We had garlic hummus today, but neither of us thought to bring gum."

"It's my fault," came a soft voice from inside the lab. "I had some chickpeas and garlic that needed to be used up. I didn't really realize just how much garlic it was until we started eating it."

"It's not your fault," he called back over his shoulder. "And it was delicious." He turned back to Angell and Maka, who dug through her pockets to offer both of them breath mints. "We were told the police were coming to ask about Tripp?"

"That'd be us," Angell said, holding up her shield for him to see. "You are?"

"Marcas Mahoney." He stepped back as he answered, motioning for them to enter. "I thought that you caught the guy who killed Tripp."

"We're just following up on a few things," Angell said.

"Why?" asked the young woman who had spoken earlier. She was sitting forlornly on a stool further inside the lab, arms crossed in front of her and wrapping her lab coat around herself tightly.

"It just comes with the job," Maka explained. "We have to prove we've exhausted all options."

"Oh," Mahoney said. "That reasonable doubt thing."

They both nodded, and Angell said, "We're sorry if it's an inconvenience, but it's something we have to do."

"Of course," Mahoney said as he took a seat on the stool next to the young woman. "Ivy and I are happy to help."

"Thank you," Maka said, pulling out her notebook. "If you don't mind, can we go over the introductions again? You said you're Marcas Mahoney-"

"I'm Dr. Stoddard's research assistant. I'm also the manager for this lab."

"I'm Ivy Adcock," the woman said. "I'm a graduate student, currently working on my Ph.D."

"We understood that there was a third person we were supposed to meet?"

"Jacob Plank," Mahoney said with a shake of his head. "We're not certain where he is."

"He and Tripp were very close," Ivy said. "I think Tripp's death hit him hard--harder than the rest of us." She turned and looked at Mahoney, adding, "I told you he called in sick this morning before you arrived, remember?"

"Oh." He seemed surprised but shook his head. "It must have slipped my mind."

"We'll check in with him when he's feeling better," Maka said. "What can you tell us about the grant process here at NYU?"

"It's very competitive," Mahoney said. "especially in this economic climate. The provost has cut back on the number of grants offered as well as the amount of money given. Last year there were several grants awarded; this year there will only be one."

"Do you work much with the different groups involved in the process?" Angell asked.

"We attend meetings with them," Ivy said, playing with one of the buttons on her lab coat. "Everyone seems rather nice. We all went out to celebrate after the announcement of the finalists--even the groups that didn't make it."

"Everyone went out?"

"Mostly everyone," Mahoney clarified for her. "I think most of the professors involved went to celebrate in their own ways, but the rest of us-"

"The younger generation," Maka offered.

"Yeah. We went to a club after we got the news."

"And everyone seemed to get along while they were there?"

"Yeah, there was some science talk for a while, then after we'd all had a few…" He shrugged. "I didn't stay the entire time, but I heard it was a rather wild night."

"When was the announcement made?" Angell asked.

"About a month ago; it was a Friday," Mahoney said.

"Uh-huh," Maka made note of that. "What can you tell us about the projects that were in the competition?"

"Well, our project is related to cancer therapy and nutrition. We're looking at synthesizing the chemical compound miraculin-"

"We already know about the miracle fruit and its applications," Angell said. "How about the other projects involved?"

Ivy paused, giving them both an annoyed look at the interruption. "The other finalist grant proposal is related to the phytoremediation of selenium-contaminated soils using transgenic plants."

Angell blinked, then added that to her notebook. "How about the others?"

"I don't know anything about the others," she said. "Marcas?"

"There was a grant proposal for a project that had something to do with GIS, and another that had something to do with organ transplants. I'm not certain about the rest. There were ten total in the beginning, and now we're down to two."

"But you're still in the competition, right?" Maka asked. "You're not planning to pull out?"

"Of course. While we miss our colleague greatly, the science must go on. How would we honor Tripp by pulling out? Better to continue our research in his name."

Ivy looked away as Mahoney spoke, shoving her hand down in her pocket to grip something tightly. Angell could see the tendons in her arm stand out as she clenched her fist. Marcas continued, patting Ivy on the shoulder as he spoke.

"Tripp was a great student and an innovative researcher. He spent far more time assisting on this project than necessary, one of the reasons he was listed as a PI on the grant proposal. I've long suspected he had a family member who underwent chemotherapy, he had such a vested interest in our results."

"Yes, well," Angell said, glancing down at her notes, "thank you for your time."

"Of course. If there is anything else, we'll be happy to help," Mahoney said as he stood and shook their hands. "We want to see Tripp's killer brought to justice."

"So do we."

::

"Vested interest?" Angell scoffed as they stepped out of the building and onto the sidewalk. "The only thing Tripp Norton had a vested interest in was who he could rape next. That's why he was working overtime on the project--he saw the golden opportunity."

"Don't look at me, I wasn't the one singing his praises."

"True." They fell silent for a time as they walked.

"Okay, so why didn't we tell them the truth up there?" Maka finally asked as they crossed the parking lot to their car.

"I just said we were following up; you're the one who took it further."

Maka snorted next to her.

"Okay, and neither of us corrected Mahoney," Angell said, stretching and wishing she'd gotten a little more sleep the night before. She was about ready to start flashing her shield at her neighbors to see if that would shut them up. She sighed when Maka raised an eyebrow, giving her an unconvinced look. "You really believe that this is just about grant money?"

"Hey, I hear some of those competitions are pretty cutthroat," Maka said, then shook her head. "No, I'm not entirely convinced."

"If this was about the grant money, Matt Tarleton would have died before the announcement of the finalists a month ago, not after."

"Something about this doesn't add up," Maka added in agreement, "and until it does, everyone who knew Tripp and Matt is a suspect."


	12. Chapter 12

**Note:** This was written for the CSI Big Bang. Thanks to Elenna for the beta. Trying this again! Thanks to Terriberri23 for the heads up! (Note to self: Don't try to post fic chapters while watching the new episode!) This can be considered a sequel to _Titania Falling_.  
**Content warning:** Some chapters include discussion of sexual violence.  
**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable CSI: NY characters, settings, etc. are the property of Anthony Zuiker and CBS. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of the CSI franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

::

"Now, see, this isn't half bad," Flack said as they walked down the steps into the arena. The team was out on the ice, running through drills, and a group of men in suits was watching with interest from the boards. "You ever seen practice?"

Mac glanced over to see if he was serious. "Why would I want to?"

"Because it's fun? It's rare to see them practicing here these days--there's a big practice facility out in Tarrytown now. But apparently the Garden didn't have anything else scheduled, so they left the ice out."

"Giving them the chance to practice on their home court."

"Exactly. It doesn't matter how nice your offsite practice facility is, nothing beats practicing where you'll be playing."

Ahead of them, one of the suits turned to see who was coming, stepping away from his colleagues and making his way up the stairs to meet them. "Detectives?"

"Flack, and this is Detective Taylor," Flack said as he reached out to shake the other man's hand. "Tad Trask?"

"Yes, why don't we move to one of the offices?"

The office in question was covered in dark paneling, filled with leather furniture granted a bird's eye view into the arena. Trask opened the small refrigerator paneled to look like a cabinet, offering them both bottles of water before taking one for himself. "How might I help you?"

"What can you tell us about Jarrett Elliot?"

"He was a good kid. Talented, ambitious. He wanted to get out there and play hockey, and nothing else mattered to him."

"Did he like it out here?" Mac asked. "Hartford and New York are a long way from Minnesota."

"He was happy to be here. He realized how lucky he was to get out while he could. University of Minnesota didn't even make the playoffs this year, which would have hurt his chances of getting drafted or picked up by anyone."

"And everyone was happy to see him come here?" Flack asked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"Listen, this is ice hockey, not Sesame Street. Yeah, there were a few guys who weren't happy to see him come in, but it isn't like that. They'd rather break him on the ice, not in the locker room."

"Did he have any enemies?"

"No one at Hartford. They're at the top of the league this year, thanks to the kid. Oh, there may be a few sore losers who wanted his spot, but they would have had a chance at it next year once he was drafted."

"Since when was there a difference between sore losers and enemies?" Flack asked, raising an eyebrow. "Who would have benefited from his death?"

"No one at Hartford. They're going to struggle to continue the season and keep their record up. When the team looks good, everyone looks good. Yeah, they were competing with Jarrett for a chance at the majors, but at the same time, having him around was improving their chances to get the bump up as well."

"Another minor league team?" Mac asked.

"Naw, no one from any of them sticks out. He was a good kid, and he was new enough to not have enemies around every corner."

"Who does stick out?" Flack asked.

"No one. Like I said-"

"You really want us to believe that a rising star in hockey--someone looking at a five or six-figure salary next year, doesn't have any enemies?"

"I can't think of anyone he played against that'd want to hurt him."

"What about someone he didn't play against?"

"I said-"

"You've said a whole lot of nothing. Trust me, you might be a good agent, but you're a horrible liar."

Trask glanced over his shoulder, down at the ice, then back over at them. "Fine, but you didn't hear this from me."

"What?" Mac asked.

"There had been rumors, before Jarrett ended up in Hartford and starting catching all the attention, that Maksimov was going to be traded to the Red Wings for Johansson. Then he shows up and the deal's off - no need for Johansson here with Jarrett in their backyard. Now, with Jarrett gone, that's all everyone has been talking about today. It's sounding like the deal might be back on."

Flack nodded, stepping back from the sports agent. "Thanks, we'll look into it."

"But you didn't hear it here, okay?" Trask said as he walked them to the door.

"Not a problem," Flack said, shaking Trask's hand again before walking out the door, Mac not far behind.

Mac managed to wait until they got outside before saying anything. "I get the feeling I missed something in there."

"Everyone has known, for the past few years, that Adrian Maksimov hasn't been happy at the Rangers. He doesn't think he gets enough time on the ice, but they have him contracted for two more years."

"So he wants out."

"And he's made it well known that Detroit is at the top of his list."

"With Elliot coming up to the majors, the Rangers didn't need Johansson - no reason to trade."

"But with Elliot gone and the trade back on, Maksimov is getting what he wants."

"And we get a suspect."

::

"It shouldn't take long," Maka called over her shoulder at Angell as she headed to her desk.

Angell nodded, glancing over at her own – and its mountain of paperwork - before deciding to join Flack at his instead.

"Back so soon?" he joked, looking up from his paperwork as she collapsed into the chair by his desk.

"Don't worry, we're going to be off again before long. Bloomfield declared an emergency on the Sanderson case, so Maka had to dig out her notebook," she explained. "We're supposed to drop it off at his office on our way to the lab."

"Fun." He gave her a close look. "You look like you actually got some sleep last night."

"A bit. Not as much as I needed, but more than I got the night before."

"You know," he said, smirking and quirking his eyebrows, "my offer still stands."

She laughed "I'm sure it does." Angell leaned in close, pitching her voice lower. "And I'm still fairly certain that we wouldn't be just sleeping."

Flack gave her a wide grin. "You know, I'm pretty sure that's the whole point."

::

Stella and Lindsay were both in the lab when Maka and Angell arrived. Lindsay looked up as they walked in. "Get much?"

"Some," Maka said. "You?"

"Looking at hair samples from both Matt and Tripp," Stella said. "It looks like the poisoning started about a month ago. It's consistent, suggesting they've both been getting heavy doses daily since then."

"A month ago?" Angell asked. "About the time when the finalists were announced?"

"It isn't an exact science; different people's hair grows at different rates. The poisoning could have begun prior to or after that, maybe by a week or two."

"And I have a list of all of the different labs competing for the mini-grants and what their proposals were," Lindsay said, brandishing a sheaf of papers. "Interestingly enough, there is a research project involving selenium-"

"Phyto-something or other of selenium-contaminated soils," Maka finished.

"Phytoremediation using transgenic plants," Lindsay said. "How'd you know about it?"

"One of Tripp's co-PIs mentioned it," Angell said. She rubbed at her brow, thinking. "We were able to meet with two of the three."

"It makes sense," Stella said quickly. "All three research groups are competing for the same grant money. If they're working with selenium, they'd have to know about the toxicity. And they have access."

"It's one possibility," Maka said.

Angell shook her head. "I don't know. Why use selenium to kill someone if they're working with it regularly and everyone knows it? Wouldn't that be a little obvious? Surely there were other chemicals they could have used that wouldn't point directly at them."

"It comes down to access. Some chemicals are strictly regulated. If you're regularly using selenium, no one is going to notice if you go through it more rapidly than other labs. But if no one using your lab is working with the chemical, people are going to start asking questions if you keep ordering more of it," Lindsay explained.

Shrugging, Angell said, "Maybe. It just seems like there's something we're missing."

"We still need to check it out," Stella said.

"It's likely too late now to catch anyone," Maka said as she checked her watch. "We can go in the morning to talk to them."

The ringing of her cell phone interrupted Stella's reply. Stepping back, Maka answered it, then quickly turned back to them as she flipped it shut. "Jacob Plank, the co-PI who didn't show up today, is at the hospital. His kidneys are shutting down."

"One of the final stages of selenium poisoning," Lindsay said.

"His roommate found him and called 911. I'm heading to the hospital," Maka said.

"I'll go with you." Lindsay followed her out the door, leaving Stella and Angell in the lab.

"If one of the co-PIs is showing signs of selenium poisoning, we should check on the last two," Stella pointed out.

"We can start at their lab."


	13. Chapter 13

**Note:** This was written for the CSI Big Bang. Thanks to Elenna for the beta. Thank you to everyone who left feedback, I've been trying to respond to everything. But if I've missed you, your comments are still greatly appreciated. This can be considered a sequel to _Titania Falling_. Sorry for the short chapter, the next should be up soon.  
**Content warning:** Some chapters include discussion of sexual violence.  
**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable CSI: NY characters, settings, etc. are the property of Anthony Zuiker and CBS. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of the CSI franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

::

The interrogation room was small and chilly, but it seemed even smaller - and chillier - thanks to Adrian Maksimov's presence. The hockey player was huge, angry at being called to the station after practice. His lawyer sat at his side, softly advising him as Flack entered the room. Mac and Hawkes were in the observation room, watching from behind the window at his back. They had their suspect, and now it was time to make him talk.

"Mr. Maksimov, thank you for coming down to speak with us," he said as he sat across from the Ranger's player.

"It didn't sound like I had much of a choice," Maksimov said in a quiet, annoyed tone of voice.

"We just want to ask you few questions about Jarrett Elliot's death."

"Why would I know anything about that? I met the kid all of twice at the most."

"But you do stand to benefit, don't you?" Flack said, referring to the rumors of a trade.

"That is as yet undetermined," Maksimov answered, glancing at his lawyer.

"You do want to be traded to Detroit, don't you? And with Elliot gone that is more likely to happen, correct?"

"Perhaps," Maksimov shrugged. "And perhaps Steven Johansson will go jump off a cliff."

Flack raised an eyebrow. "Should we be concerned for Mr. Johansson's safety?"

"Look, all I'm saying is that nothing was set in stone before the bosses started talking about drafting Elliot, and nothing is set in stone now. Maybe there's interest in a trade. And yes, I'd be happy to leave if it happened. But why would I bother killing the kid? Just because they were going to draft him? They have first pick this round. If not him, what was going to keep them from drafting someone else in his place? Then they still wouldn't have any reason to trade me."

"Did you have anything to do with the death of Jarrett Elliot?"

"Are you kidding?" Maksimov glanced at his lawyer again before turning back to Flack. "I didn't kill Elliot, if that's what you're asking. I was on the ice to warm up before the game. Watch the tapes if you don't believe me."

"Don't worry, Mr. Maksimov, we will."

::

Brown Building was mostly dark when they arrived, but the security guard let them in. Stella followed Angell through the maze of hallways to Dr. Stoddard's lab, where Marcas Mahoney was just locking up.

"Detective Angell," he said, frowning as Stella took a step back in surprise, her eyes widening. "I figured that if you needed anything else you'd just call."

"Quick question," Angell asked, furrowing her brow. "Did you have any more of that hummus today?"

"No, not since before lunch. Why?" He looked at her with wide eyes, surprised by her question.

"Garlic breath," she said to Stella. "One of the symptoms. I can't believe we didn't catch it earlier. But he had a plausible reason for it. Maka even gave them both mints."

Stella was already pulling out her phone. "We're going to need to get you to a hospital."

"Why?" Mahoney asked in confusion as she and Angell started guiding him back to the entrance.

"Jacob Plank was admitted to the hospital with signs of selenium poisoning, the same way Matthew Tarleton died, and the same way Tripp Norton was being poisoned," Angell explained. "One of the outward symptoms is the smell of garlic."

"You mean--you think?" He stopped, looking at them both. "Someone is trying to kill me?"

"We think someone is trying to kill your lab," Stella said as she hung up her phone. "An ambulance is on its way."

"Where is Ivy Adcock?" Angell asked.

"Well, she went home. About an hour ago. I was just finishing up in the dishroom, so I told her to head out."

"Where does she live?"

"One of the grad dorms, I think. I'm not certain."

"I'll call dispatch to find out," Angell said, turning to Stella as they both stepped a bit away from Mahoney. "You want to go with him to the hospital? I'll get Ivy Adcock and meet you there. She'll need to be checked out as well."

"Is there anyone else working on the project?" Stella asked her.

"No, just the four of them."

"And it looks like at least three of the four have been poisoned," Stella said, nodding slightly. "If Ivy Adcock has been poisoned as well, that means the entire team was targeted."


	14. Chapter 14

**Note:** This was written for the CSI Big Bang. Thanks to Elenna for the beta. Thank you to everyone who left feedback! This can be considered a sequel to _Titania Falling_.  
**Content warning:** Some chapters include discussion of sexual violence.  
**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable CSI: NY characters, settings, etc. are the property of Anthony Zuiker and CBS. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of the CSI franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

::

It was just after eight in the morning when Angell and Maka arrived at the bioremediation test site. It was a satellite lab nearly an hour's drive from the university, where the researchers involved in the competitive mini-grant were conducting their research. The unit consisted of a number of large greenhouses and a building that was labeled as the office. They started there, Maka knocking on the door. A slight, middle-aged woman answered, her dark hair pulled back in a tight bun.

"Yes?" she asked in a thick Eastern European accent, surveying them both.

"I'm Detective Maka, and this is Detective Angell with the NYPD. We need to speak with Dr. Zita Klimet, Dr. Eric Gaertner, Hillary Hora, and Max Terrones."

"I'm Dr. Klimet. It sounds like you want to meet with my entire research team."

"That would be correct," Maka said.

"They're inside. We were just finishing our morning meeting," Dr. Klimet said as she motioned for them to enter. "What is this about?"

"Matt Tarleton, Tripp Norton, and Jacob Plank," Angell said.

"Jake?" a young woman further inside asked, her eyes wide with horror. "I heard that Matt and Tripp both died, but Jacob, too?"

"He's in the hospital," Maka said. "You know them?"

"Not Matt and Tripp--not really other, than to recognize them. But Jacob was my lab partner in Plant Systematics last semester and Economic Botany right now. We've--" she blushed, ducking her head a bit. "we've gotten to know each other through the classes."

"Just how well did you know him, Ms.-?" Angell asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hillary," she said with a shake of her head as the guy sitting next to her grinned, elbowing her in the side. "And not _that_ well. Well, not as well as I would have liked. We just worked together in class - and occasionally outside of class - but I don't think he was that interested. Or if he was, he didn't show it very well and can I just shut up now?"

The guy next to her laughed at her embarrassment, turning to Maka and Angell. "You'll have to excuse our Hillary. She's had a crush on Jake since they started working together in those classes-" He ducked her not so playful swipe. "-and it's been rather well known. At least among those of us who work with her."

"Max," she complained, glaring at him. He shrugged, his hands raised in surrender. She turned back to the detectives and asked, "Is Jake going to be okay? What happened?"

"And how is this related to those other two young men?" the older man - Eric Gaertner, most likely - in the room asked. "I thought those were separate occurrences."

"They were. Matt died of selenium poisoning," Angell explained. "However, during Tripp's autopsy it was discovered that he was a victim of selenium poisoning, as well. Jacob Plank was taken to the hospital last night with similar."

"And since our research proposal involves selenium, we became the most logical suspects," Dr. Klimet finished for them.

"Actually," Maka said, "the fact that your project and Norton and Plank's are the two finalists in the mini-grant competition is what made your team persons of interest. We have reason to believe that the other two researchers on the team have been poisoned as well."

"Selenium is a very slow-acting poison and requires time to build up in the system," Dr. Gaertner said crossly. "You don't actually expect us to be able to provide alibis for the entire time it has been taking place, do you? It would be difficult to tell you where we've all been every minute of every day in that period, not to mention impossible to corroborate."

"It started about a month ago," Angell said. "We need to know where you've been in that time frame. We realize that it'll be difficult, but we need as much information as you can give us."

"A month ago?" Dr. Klimet asked. "That might be easier than you thought, Eric. We only got back to the States two weeks ago."

"Two weeks ago?" Maka asked.

"Yes," Dr. Gaertner said, beginning to smile. "We were attending the European Bioremediation Conference. While the conference itself is only four days long, we - the entire team - spent three weeks on the other side of the pond."

"I'm a visiting scholar from Nicolaus Copernicus University in Bielany, Poland," Dr. Klimet explained. "As a part of the sponsorship between NYU and NCU, we spent two weeks after the conference at NCU. We helped our colleagues there set up replicates of our work here, and Dr. Gaertner and I both gave several seminars to the Institute of General and Molecular Biology and the Institute of Ecology and Environmental Protection."

"So," Dr. Gaertner said, grinning widely, "it's entirely impossible that we were involved in this. We weren't even in the country when it happened."

"All four of you took part in this?" Angell asked.

"All four of us," Dr. Klimet said. "Max and Hillary both presented posters at the conference and took part in setting up the trials at NCU. Their presence was instrumental in the success of that part of the project. We couldn't have done it without them."

"Did you or Dr. Gaertner present at the conference?"

"We both presented papers, repeated those presentations, and presented others in our seminars at NCU for those colleagues who were unable to attend the conference."

"So you weren't able to attend the meeting announcing the two finalists?" Angell asked.

"No, we weren't."

"And it's a shame, too," Max said. "Apparently there was a pretty big party afterward. That would have been fun to have been at, you know? Most of the stuff the groups involved in the proposals do together is boring and stuffy; it would have been a nice change of scenery."

"Do you know of anyone else, either involved in the grant process or not, who might want to cause harm to the victims?" Maka asked.

"No," Dr. Gaertner said. "Everyone was impressed by that team. It was the first time a team without a faculty member had been involved in the grants--it consisted of just a research staff member and three students, one of whom was an undergrad. The fact that they made it to the final round is just all the more impressive."

"What does making it to the final round involve?" Angell asked, furrowing her brow.

"The whole point of the mini-grant program," Dr. Gaertner explained, "is to set up a research project that can then be funded by other grants. It's essentially a start-up grant, but its intention is to help bring more grant monies in to the university in the future. Because of the economics of this day and age, for the final round we have to show that we will be capable of bringing in large grants. This is done by outlining what NSF or other grants we'll be applying for, how much they're worth, and, in some cases, attaching a copy of our grant application."

"If this is for start-up funds, what are you working on now?"

"The project that we proposed is actually an offshoot of the research we're currently working on," Dr. Klimet said. "Currently we're looking at the phytoremediation of cadmium-contaminated soils. We chose to use artificially contaminated soils - soils we amended with cadmium ourselves - as well as sample soils sent to us from around the world. This included soils from an area in China that also has a very high selenium concentration, which has led to selenium poisoning from food crops grown in fields in those areas. We found, to our surprise, that our plants were removing both the cadmium and small amounts of the selenium from that soil."

"As a result," Dr. Geartner jumped in, "we want to look into how to increase the amount of selenium our plants remove. Our hypothesis is that it's a result of one of the transgenic genes we added to the plants, so we would like to isolate that particular gene and see if we can find a way to amplify its effects."

Angell nodded, though about half of the explanation had gone over her head. "We're also going to need hair samples from the four of you."

"Hair samples?" Max asked, running his hand over his hair.

"It's to test to see if we've been poisoned as well," Dr. Gaertner said. "You'll need it from the root? And how much?"

"Yes, but only a few hairs. We'll contact you if we need more," Maka said, pulling the small evidence bags that Stella had given her from her pocket. "Please put your names on your sample so we can keep them straight."

One of the grad students produced a black sharpie that was passed around as all four researchers provided their sample. The bags were handed back to Maka when they were finished. "Okay," she said slowly. "Is there anything else any of you can think of?"

All four shook their heads, Max rubbing lightly at the spot where Hillary had helpfully tugged out a few of his hairs for him. Dr. Geartner stood, showing them to the door. "I suppose you'll be checking on our trip."

"It's protocol, Dr. Geartner," Maka replied as they stepped out of the office. "And, yes, we will."

"Good. I don't want there to be any doubt. I can't think that anyone would kill over these grants--they aren't very large. And while that team was doing some very good research that could help save lives, so are we. I don't want any shadow of suggestion that we were involved hanging over our work."

"We understand," Angell said, extending her hand to shake his. "And, considering your alibi, it seems unlikely that your group had anything to do with it. However, it is our job to follow up on any possibilities."

"And since we were involved in the grant process and using selenium, it was a high possibility," he said with a sigh. "It's a shame. Those were good kids--bright kids who had a great future as researchers."

Angell bit the inside of her cheek to avoid making a snarky comment about Tripp, instead nodding in agreement. "Thank you for your assistance."

"Of course. And if you need anything else," he said, gesturing to the office, "you know where to find us."

"What did you think?" Maka asked as she started the car. It was not going to be a short drive back into the city; plenty of time to discuss the case.

"I think that their alibi is going to check out," Angell said quietly.

"You still think we're missing something."

"I'm beginning to wonder if it even has anything to do with the grants at all."


	15. Chapter 15

**Note:** This was written for the CSI Big Bang. Thanks to Elenna for the beta. Thank you to everyone who has given feedback, it's greatly appreciated! This can be considered a sequel to _Titania Falling_.  
**Content warning:** Some chapters include discussion of sexual violence.  
**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable CSI: NY characters, settings, etc. are the property of Anthony Zuiker and CBS. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of the CSI franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

::

The video equipment was just about set up when Hawkes joined Adam in the A/V room. He carried a DVD case with the Madison Square Garden insignia on it. "Flack just dropped this off," he said as he handed the case to Adam. "It's the game from the other night. He went to tell Mac, but he said he'd be back to watch it with us."

"And now we can see if Adrian Maksimov was telling the truth," Adam said. He carefully removed the DVD from the case, slipping it into the DVD player. He queued it up to start, so they'd be ready when Flack arrived.

"Which one of you brought the popcorn?" Flack asked as he joined them, flopping into a chair and extending his legs out in front of him.

"Popcorn?" Adam asked, his eyes wide and a frantic look on his face. "We were supposed to bring popcorn?"

"Or nachos. It _is_ a hockey game," Flack reminded him. "But I'm pretty sure that beer would be frowned upon."

"Mac would kill us," Hawkes said with a laugh. "And it'd probably involve a long lecture about compromising the integrity of the lab."

"Oh, wait," Adam cut in, "you were joking? I thought you meant I actually was supposed to bring munchies. Not that that's a bad idea, because it would be good to have popcorn or nachos while watching a hockey game, but I didn't know that I was supposed to-"

"Adam." Flack held up a hand. "I was joking. There's something about watching videos in here that makes you want popcorn, you know?"

"That's just because you're always hungry," Hawkes reminded him.

Flack waved his comment off, motioning to the TV. "So, we ready to start?"

"Uh, yeah." Adam grabbed the remote, pressing play before offering it to the other two. Both shook their heads as the screen was filled with an image of the ice at Madison Square Garden. Both teams were out warming up as two announcers introduced themselves in the background.

"Maksimov is number sixty-six," Flack said, his eyes glued to the screen as he tried to pinpoint that particular jersey.

"In the corner," Hawkes said, pointing at the screen. "Up by the wall around the ice, heading towards the red line."

"The half-boards," Flack corrected absently as he found Maksimov on the ice and the crowd roared in appreciation at one of his teammate's practice shots. "And that's the goal line."

"I thought the side of the rink was called the boards," Adam said with a grown.

"They are. They're just the half-boards on the straight section of the wall between the blue line and the goal line." Flack shrugged. "I'm not the one who names these things. Not that it matters here; we know he was out on the ice during warm-ups."

"He is at this point," Hawkes said, glancing at the time on the DVD player. "But this tape starts about a half-hour prior to the estimated time of death."

"He could have left and come back," Flack said, nodding in understanding. "So we're going to have to watch it all. Shame, that, having to sit here and watch a hockey game."

"I don't know about the whole thing," Hawkes said. "More like just until we know the murder has taken place."

"Killjoy."

Hawkes laughed as they continued to watch the hockey players skate around the ice, practicing passing the puck, shooting goals, and defensive maneuvers. After a while the two announcers appeared on screen, the ice visible in the background. Adam was, this time, the first to spot Maksimov crossing the ice behind them.

"This is going to get old fast," Flack said, squinting to keep an eye on the hockey player while listening to the announcers with half an ear as they seemed to go on and on about the match-up. The camera cut back to the ice, following the players for several more minutes as the commentators discussed them.

_"Down at the half boards is Fraiser: he's passing to Mazur, who easily shoots it into the goal. This Rangers team is at the top of their game, and you can see it just in their warm-ups. Just take a look at center ice, at Maksimov who's passing to Wilkins. There's two players who've overcome their difficulties to work well together on the ice."_

The camera cut again from the players on the ice to the boxes where the President and General Manager of the Rangers was seen entering his box. _"And there's good ole Glen Sather, joining us from his box. He's hoping the Rangers can extend their winning streak with this game."_

The ice filled the screen again, and after a bit longer than any of them were comfortable with, Maksimov came back into view. Adam fidgeted, "It's about the right time, you don't think that he?"

"Nah, not enough time to get off the ice, kill Elliot, and get back on," Flack said. Hawked nodded in agreement. "And I'm not certain he could get off the ice without the announcers mentioning it. I've watched games with these two before--they're the biggest busybodies in the world of hockey. If it happens on the ice - or off and even before the game starts - they'll mention it."

The cameraman decided to prove his words by switching to someone in the stands wearing a Rangers uniform, coming down the steps to their front row seats.

_"And there's Ed Slatton, father of Kevin Slatton - a rising young hockey star at the University of Minnesota. There's talk that the Grand Rapids Griffins might be getting him after he graduates. They're affiliated with the Red Wings, so look out for him here in the NHL in a few years time."_

_"Of course, Dad was a hockey star back in his day, too, you remember, as was Grandpa. That's why it's called the Slatton family legacy."_

"Yeah," Flack said, nodding at what the announcers had said. "That kid's pretty good. Really good. He's the only reason Minnesota didn't lose every single game this year. He should have won the Hobey, but the team's record this season was too poor for him to get it."

"That sucks," Adam said. Most of his experience with the game was roller hockey; he'd never actually played on the ice, though he liked to watch the occasional game. But he knew enough about it to know that getting the Hobey was like practically getting a free ride into the majors. It'd be harder for Slatton to get bumped up from the feeder team now than if he had the award.

"Yeah," Flack said absently, watching the teams warm up.

The announcers went on to talk about the Buffalo Sabres, the visiting team, pointing out several of the players on the ice and talking about their strengths and weaknesses. The camera moved again, this time to another box where the family of Paul Steffanson, from the Sabres, was watching.

_"Talk about another legacy family, Ted--the Steffanson family. Nearly every last one of them has been on the ice at some point or the other. And look, there's Brent Steffanson, just showing up. He's the biggest bruiser of the bunch."_

Flack wrinkled his nose as the camera showed Brent Steffanson, complete with navy Sabres uniform. "Biggest bruiser is right. He's currently on suspension for fighting. The guy has a temper."

"I've heard about him," Adam said excitedly. "He got into that brawl in Anaheim, didn't he? The one where, like, three players ended up hospitalized?"

"That's him."

"Yeah, but we didn't get anything here. Maksimov was on the ice the whole time," Hawkes said as the teams left the ice prior to the game beginning, which was when the body had been discovered. "I think we can count him out as a suspect."

::

Lindsay was attempting to read and walk at the same time, narrowly missing smacking into Kendall in the lab doorway. Quickly apologizing, she found Stella.

"I have the results from the bloodwork for both Mahoney and Adcock."

Stella looked up from the solution she was just about to put through the GC-MS. "And?"

"Both have elevated concentrations of selenium in their bloodstream. The hospital had already started Mahoney on treatment since he was exhibiting symptoms of the poisoning, but I've contacted them with the amounts to see if they want to start Adcock as well."

"What did they say?"

"That they'd put her under observation. Apparently the treatment isn't pleasant, and they don't think the levels in her bloodstream are high enough to warrant it yet. They're going monitor her selenium intake and see if the concentration will go down naturally."

"How about Mahoney?"

"He's lucky to be alive. Given another week or so, he would have been experiencing kidney failure as well."

"I'm glad we found them when we did," Stella said, turning on the GC-MS.

"Yeah, I just wish that Maka and Angell had noticed it sooner," Lindsay said softly.

"I think they had a pretty good reason not to, Lindsay. They asked about it when they first interviewed him, and he told them about the hummus someone had brought in. That's how Angell knew to ask about it when we met him last night. He was still suggesting it was just leftover effects from the hummus he'd eaten as the ambulance was taking us to the hospital." Stella lined the samples up to feed into the machine as she spoke. "And I could have believed him. Wow, did he smell like garlic. If he hadn't told us that he hadn't had any since he last spoke with Angell, I would have easily believed that's what it was."

"Maybe. I just feel like we lost time there. They could have checked on Jacob Plank then, before he went into the hospital."

"Perhaps. Hindsight's twenty-twenty, Lindsay; we can't keep second-guessing their, or our actions. We just need to move forward. They'll get back with the information from the phytoremediation research group soon enough. We can see what our next step is then."

"How about the hair analysis?" Lindsay asked. "Are you getting anything from them?"

"You'll know as soon as I do," Stella said with a grin as the GC-MS started on the samples. As each sample was processed, a report was sent to the printer. Page after page became available, which Stella took and read through before passing them on to Lindsay.

"This one is pretty consistent with Tarleton and Norton," Lindsay said. "It looks like the poisoning started about a month ago, but the concentrations aren't as high."

"No, they aren't," Stella murmured as she looked over the latest paper.

"Which one were these samples from?"

"Mahoney," Stella said as she prepped the next set of samples to run. "This set is from Adcock."

Soon the printer was producing reports from those samples as well. "More of the same," Lindsay said as she read through them before passing them on to Stella. "It looks like Adcock started ingesting the selenium about a month ago, as well."

"Yeah, but it stopped for a while." Stella shook her head in frustration. "This doesn't show when it started again, but hair grows slowly enough that it may not be showing up in her hair samples yet. We know that it started again--the selenium concentration in her bloodstream is high enough that it had to have started again. Otherwise, if this is what it is coming down as it goes out of her system, she'd be dead by now."

"Maybe she stopped eating or drinking whatever was poisoned?" Lindsay suggested. "Considering that the entire lab was poisoned, there's a possibility that maybe the poison was added to something they shared."

"There was a fridge in the hallway outside their lab marked no chemicals," Stella said. "I'm guessing that's where people in the building store their lunches."

"We're going to need to check it out, then," Lindsay said. "And test everything that's in it."


	16. Chapter 16

**Note:** This was written for the CSI Big Bang. Thanks to Elenna for the beta. Thank you to everyone who has given feedback, it's greatly appreciated! This can be considered a sequel to _Titania Falling_.  
**Content warning:** Some chapters include discussion of sexual violence.  
**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable CSI: NY characters, settings, etc. are the property of Anthony Zuiker and CBS. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of the CSI franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

::

Flack felt like he'd spent more time at The Garden than in the past two days than he had all month. Granted, he'd only had tickets for two games in the past month - one hockey and one basketball - but he'd been there since ten AM.

He was lucky: Tad Trask had made arrangements for him to meet there with everyone from Elliot's itinerary. It saved him the time of driving all over the city to track them down. The door opened, interrupting his thoughts, and his next interviewee entered.

"Detective Flack?" the man asked as he entered, reaching out to shake Flack's hand as he approached. "Henry Lacy, I understand you have a few questions for me."

"Yes." Flack motioned for him to sit. "You met with Jarrett Elliot while he was in the city?"

"We had dinner together the night, well, the night before he died," Lacy said. "I'm a financial planner; I have a contract with Madison Square Garden, L.P. to work with their players at a discounted rate. Most pro-athletes declare bankruptcy within a few years of retirement. They don't think to save while they're playing, and they're used to the money flowing in, so when they retire they keep on spending."

"So they hired you to help prevent that from happening?"

"Yes. It's a purely voluntary program, and there are some athletes that have declined to work with me. Some may have their own financial planner already and some just don't care to think ahead. But I've started meeting with all incoming players to let them know that I'm available and can work with them. For athletes new to the pros, like Jarrett, this is a golden opportunity. It's a chance for him to get his finances under control early and start saving as soon as the big paychecks started coming in before he gets used to having that much money and gets bad habits that have to be broken later."

"Was Jarrett interested in the program?"

"Definitely. He had a good head on his shoulders, that kid did. He'd already found an apartment - he was proud of the fact he hadn't gone for any of the fancy Manhattan addresses but found something cheaper closer to the practice facility. He wanted to start saving as much as possible. In fact, he'd already determined that he could cover his cost of living and still have extra cash by using only half of his paycheck. He wanted to start saving and investing that other half right away. Jarrett had a lot of questions about investment plans."

"What kind of mood was he in at dinner?"

"He was excited, very excited about this opportunity."

"Is there anything from your conversation with him that stands out?"

"Just his enthusiasm."

Flack nodded: this was consistent with all of the other interviews so far. Standing, he thanked Mr. Lacy and said he could go. He scrubbed his face after the other man left the room--this wasn't getting the investigation anywhere. Glancing down at his schedule, he raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn't expected to be meeting with Ed Slatton, but it made sense; Kevin Slatton and Jarrett Elliot had played college hockey together and were supposedly very good friends. He wasn't surprised to see that Jarrett had met with his friend's father while they were both in town.

Ed Slatton was a few inches shorter than Flack, with silvering dark hair and a slight limp. That was, if Flack remembered correctly, what had kicked him out of hockey - a bad break during a game. He sat across the table from Flack, who introduced himself and explained what they were doing.

"I just need to know what happened when you spoke with Elliot on-" He quickly glanced at the itinerary that Trask's secretary had emailed him. Slatton wasn't on it, anywhere. "When did you see Elliot?"

"The- the day he died," Slatton said nervously. He straightened his cuffs, then set his hands on the table. "I ran into Jarrett and his manager - Mr. Trask - at the hockey game. They were on their way to their box, I think. Wait, no, the coach wanted him in the locker room for the pre-game pep talk, he said. We spoke for a while to catch up, and then I went to sit down."

"How did he seem? Nervous? Excited? Did anything stand out to you?"

"No, no. He seemed-" Slatton paused and started tapping his fingers on the table as he thought. He caught himself and quickly stopped, giving Flack an apologetic look. "Jarrett seemed to be in a good mood. Happy, even."

"What did you talk about?"

"The season at University of Minnesota. Kevin's prospects in the draft."

"I heard that Kevin might be going to the Griffins," Flack said, leaning back in his chair. It wasn't every day that he could talk with one of his old hockey idols. He could remember watching Red Wings games when he was a kid, games that Slatton had played.

"It's a possibility." Slatton shrugged, glancing down at his hands before he continued. "We'd prefer that he get selected in the draft, but after the season Minnesota's had it's unlikely."

Flack nodded, understanding that reasoning. It'd been an unfortunate season that year, after the incredible one they'd had the year before. He glanced back down at his notes, moving the interview back on track. "Did Mr. Trask mention anything to you when you spoke with him and Jarrett?"

"Oh, no. In fact, he got a phone call soon after we ran into each other. He went on ahead to the box to answer it. Jarrett was supposed to go straight to the locker room, then up to the box after that."

"Can you think of anything else that might be of use?"

"I'm afraid not." Slatton shifted in his chair as he shook his head. "It was good to see Jarrett again. He- he was like a son to me. He and Kevin were such close friends. It's a shame to lose him like this."

"Thank you, Mr. Slatton," Flack said as he stood and extended his hand. After they shook, he motioned to the door. "You've been very helpful. And if you think of anything else please let me know."

Slatton, Flack thought to himself, was very likly the last person who had seen Jarrett before he died in the locker room.

His next interview arrived quickly, a familiar looking young woman who, despite the tension around her, cast flirtatious glances at him from under her eyelashes. He gave her a reluctant grin, inwardly rolling his eyes. For all Jess teased him about witnesses flirting with him, he had to admit it made his job easier at times. If all it took was a smile to get someone to open up, that was a tool he was going to use. If nothing else, it might put her more at ease. Don recognized her type: flirting - sex, really - was a tool for her, and in this case she had it wrapped around herself like a piece of armor.

"Miss-" Don paused, checking the itinerary. "-Steffanson." He paused again, looking up at her closely. He had a feeling he knew where he'd seen her before. "Related to Brent and Paul Steffanson?"

"They're my older brothers," Dana Steffanson said quietly. She gave him a speculative look as she continued, "And you're wanting to know how I know - knew - Jarrett?"

"That would be correct. According to the information I've been given, you met with him while he was in the city."

"We went to school together," she started, her façade cracking minutely as she spoke. She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders and flashing him a broad, seemingly confident smile, before she continued. "He knew that I had moved to New York after graduation, so he looked me up while he was in town."

"He looked you up?"

"We, uh, we went out a couple of times in college, but it wasn't really good timing for either of us. So when he found out they were bringing him here, he thought-" She shrugged, biting her lip and trying to appear nonchalant. "Jarrett thought maybe we could try again. I figured that it couldn't hurt anything."

"You were on a date."

"You could call it that," she said as she nervously picked at the polish on her fingernails. "I saw it as a chance to catch up with an old friend."

Don nodded, watching as she shifted in her seat. "What did your brothers think?"

She froze, staring at him with wide eyes before turning away. "They didn't know."

"They didn't?" he asked, tipping his head to the side. "But you're worried that they did. Brent didn't return to your family's box until just before the game began, after Jarrett was killed."

The façade crumbled, Miss Steffanson turned back to him, her shoulders shaking as she tried to keep her emotions in check. "Back in school, when we started dating, it was about tweaking their noses. Where I went to school, who I dated--everything I did was--to get back at them. They were such typical older brothers, trying to control my life."

"And dating Jarrett was your way of rebelling against them."

"Younger guy, star hockey player at their alma mater's rival school, broke one of Brent's NCAA records, you name it. My brothers didn't like him, and they had a lot of reasons to not want me to date him. But they didn't know that Jarrett and I met up while he was in town. Brent didn't get to New York until the day before Jarrett died, after we went out. My parents didn't get in until game day. And, well, Paul was on the ice when it happened."

"You never mentioned it to any of them?"

"Brent wasn't really interested in hanging out the night he got in. And I was working the next day; I barely had time to get home and change before going to the game."

"Then why are you so scared it was your brother?" He didn't need to say which one: they both knew who was more likely and had opportunity.

"Brent, he gets so angry sometimes. He hated that I was with Jarrett in school," she said softly as she looked down at her hands. "He made a comment - when it was announced that Jarrett would likely be joining the Rangers - that he hoped I didn't think that was an excuse to have another fling with him. I wasn't even certain I wanted to go that route. I hadn't seen Jarrett in almost two years. For all I knew, he could have been a completely different person."

"Miss Steffanson, I need to know where you and your brother were prior to the start of the game.

"I got to the Garden just as the players were going onto the ice for their warm-up, and I had just gotten to the box when Paul went out." She bit her lip as she tried to remember that night. "I think that Brent went down to the concession stand maybe twenty minutes after that? It was right after a Rangers player made a great shot during the warm-ups. The whole crowd went wild - well, those that were paying attention."

"And he returned to the box just as the warm-up was ending."

"Yes," she said, nodding at him. "Do-do you really think that he killed Jarrett?"

"I don't know, ma'am. That's what we're trying to find out."


	17. Chapter 17

**Note:** This was written for the CSI Big Bang. Thanks to Elenna for the beta. Thank you to everyone who left feedback! This can be considered a sequel to _Titania Falling_.  
**Content warning:** Some chapters include discussion of sexual violence.  
**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable CSI: NY characters, settings, etc. are the property of Anthony Zuiker and CBS. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of the CSI franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

::

They met in the lab's conference room, folders, files, and reports related to the case spread out on the normally uncluttered surface.

"How did it go with the phytoremediation research group?" Stella asked as she passed the toxicology reports from the hair and blood samples from Mahoney and Adcock over.

"They have an alibi," Angell said as she glanced over the papers before passing them to Maka. "Not only does it check out, it's pretty airtight."

"How can they have an airtight alibi for a month ago?" Lindsay asked with a frown. "I don't remember what I was doing every day a month ago other than work."

"They were out of the country for three weeks," Maka explained. "They got back just two weeks ago, which means they left a week before those hair samples suggest the poisoning started."

"There is some wiggle room," Lindsay said. She pulled out the original lab report from Norton and Tarleton's hair samples, scanning it quickly before she continued, "It could have started anywhere from four to six weeks ago."

"And five weeks ago they left the country and were gone for three weeks," Angell said. "We checked with customs, and their passports were processed when they say they left and returned. So unless one of them mixed something up for the victims to eat prior to leaving and took the chance that it wouldn't run out, wouldn't go bad, and wouldn't be discovered, it's impossible for them to have started the poisoning and continued it at such a steady rate."

"Those are too many risks," Stella said. Maka nodded her head in agreement.

"What about other colleagues in their lab who aren't a part of the proposal team?" Lindsay asked. "They'd still have an interest--those grants would bring in money to their lab that could still benefit them through new equipment and the like. Could one of them have done it?"

"I doubt it," Maka said, shaking her head as she thought back to their interview. "There weren't any other people at the research center while we were there. Plus, I'm not certain if they're actually even using selenium yet. The proposal is an offshoot from the research they're currently doing with a different element. They discovered by accident that the plants removed selenium, also."

Angell nodded. "It sounded to me, too, like they hadn't really started with the selenium yet. Though you'd think," she said to Maka, "that Dr. Gaertner would have mentioned it. He was combative enough during the interview."

"Perhaps they already have it on hand?" Lindsay asked.

"I know they have some soil contaminated with selenium and-" Maka paused as she looked through her notes from the interview. "-cadmium. As for actual, bottled, elemental selenium, I don't know."

"They probably have some," Stella said, closing her eyes and mentally inventorying the chemicals generally found in a lab. "Most labs would have a bottle that gets occasional use."

"But that gets back to what Lindsay was saying the other day about access and use," Angell pointed out. "If they aren't using the selenium yet, wouldn't it be noticed if they went through a lot of it?"

"I think we can safely say they didn't do it," Stella said, "especially since it seems that it was a two-liter bottle of Mountain Dew that was poisoned. I spoke with Marcas; their lab group shares what they call grocery duties for certain things. Soda is one of them, and Mountain Dew was the preferred drink for most of the lab, so they'd share a bottle in the communal fridge and take turns getting new ones."

"With several people drinking out of it, they probably went through it fairly quickly," Maka said, "and there's no way it could have been poisoned beforehand and left by Dr. Klimet's group. For one thing, even if someone poisoned enough of the soda, they would have had to unseal the bottles to do so. It would have gone flat and been undrinkable."

"Not to mention someone would have had to restock the fridge with the poisoned bottles whenever they ran out, switching the new, unpoisoned bottles with the poisoned bottles," Stella said as she tossed the report on the table in front of her. "It just isn't feasible for it to have been them. Who else was involved in the mini-grant process? They would have had motive."

"I don't know, Stella," Angell said shaking her head. "I'm not convinced that this has anything to do with the mini-grants. How many academics do you know that'll kill each other over five hundred thousand dollars? From what I've been hearing, that's not even big money in those circles."

"She has a point," Lindsay conceded, tapping her pencil lightly against the table.

She had hoped it'd be the other lab group: this case was taking too long to wrap up, and they still didn't know if there were any other potential victims out there. The only way to save those lives was to find out who was behind it and why they were targeting the people they did.

"This was a small, competitive, inhouse group; it isn't nearly as cut-throat as larger grants," Angell said, glancing at her notes from the conversation that morning. "The whole point of the program is to set up projects that will later bring in larger grants--its part of the final round. I know I'm not an expert, but at the same time, I'd think that any of the grants involved could compete for a larger grant, like from the National Science Foundation."

"It'd be more difficult," Stella said. "Grants that can show that they're viable - such as if the research has already started - do better than grants that don't."

"I think that the phytoremediation group has already shown that their research is viable," Angell replied. "They've already got the cadmium remediation going for them."

Lindsay nodded. "These little grants are just a boost towards getting the bigger grants. And they're spread out over three to five years, meaning it's not the whole half million right at once. That makes it even less of a motive, when you think about it."

"Okay, so if not the grant program, then why?" Maka asked, leaning forward.

"We're going to have to go back to the victims," Stella said.

"We know that Tripp was on his way home from Aura when he died. There's the GHB connection, too."

"Tarleton went to Aura on occasion," Maka said, pulling open her notes. "He wasn't there the night he died, but according to his roommate he went about once a week."

"So there's a connection to the club?" Stella asked.

"Not just the club," Angell said, flipping open her notes. "Kaile, Ivy Adcock didn't mention where they all went the night of the announcements, did she?"

"No, you think they went there?"

"I think it makes sense. It's not far from campus, and we know that the two dead vics went there regularly. It seems like a regular hangout spot. So what about our live ones?"

"We should find out," Stella said. "Something may have happened at that club, something that led to these deaths."

::

Flack shook his head at Mac and Hawkes as he entered Mac's office. "I hope you have better news than I do," he said as he sat, "because there's nothing from the interviews."

"Nothing?" Mac asked.

"No one that stands out as a viable suspect," Flack said, tossing his notebook on Mac's desk. The other detective picked it up and started flipping through the notes from the interviews as Flack gave them a quick rundown of his morning, then continued, "Everyone that the kid had a meeting with was set to benefit from him, not from his death. There are a lot of people in the hockey world scrambling to recover from this."

"Maybe someone wanting to hurt one of them?" Hawkes asked. "Maybe Jarrett Elliot wasn't the real target, just a means to an end?"

"It's a possibility," Flack said. "I've got the Rangers tracking down every single whack-job letter or threat they've received. And trust me, that's not going to be a small pile. I could have some of those people start making lists as well."

"Do it," Mac said. "We need something-- fast. We don't even have the murder weapon."

"Any idea of what it could be?"

"Something thin," Hawkes said. "And possibly wooden, but those slivers of wood could have come from something else."

"Not that shelf? It was wooden, wasn't it?"

"We compared the slivers to the shelf, and they weren't a match."

"So, what are the possibilities?" Flack asked, frowning as he thought. "Baseball bat? Yardstick? I don't see how someone wouldn't be noticed with that. Weren't the benches wooden?"

"That's a possibility," Mac said as he stood. "We can at least check to see if the wood matches the slivers. I think they'll be too thick to have been what hit him in the neck, though."

"That doesn't mean the slivers came from what hit him. If he was in a fight, he may have hit the benches, or something else wooden, before getting that hit to his throat." Hawkes continued, "We're going to have to go back to the scene."

The Garden was fairly empty when they arrived, having cleared out after Flack finished his interviews. The security guard on duty let them into the locker room, where they both set down their kits and just looked around the room.

"I'll get samples from the benches," Hawkes said as he opened his kit, "But you're right: they're too thick to be the murder weapon."

"If that wood matches the splinters, then they didn't necessarily come from the murder weapon," Mac said as he looked around.

"Meaning the murder weapon might not be wooden," Hawkes said as he took a sample. "It also might not still be here."

"No, I think it is," Mac said. "Flack said that Elliot was supposed to be down here for the pre-game talk. How many people would have known about that? They may have known he was going to be at this game, but most people would have assumed he'd be in the box and not back here. They would have planned to murder him there. I think this was a crime of opportunity."

"Plus," Hawkes said, "most murderers would shoot their victim, or stab or strangle them. Hitting them just right to immobilize their airway isn't a method of murder most people would think of. Or get right--you'd have to know a lot about human anatomy."

"Or not know a lot," Mac said looking at something by the door. Hawkes joined him where he stood, following his gaze as Mac continued. "And it was an accident."

"Those hockey sticks," Hawkes said.

"They were here when we were here last, too," Mac said as he pulled one of them from the box they were in. "We didn't think about it because they're meant to be here and we were looking for things that were out of place."

"The edge is the right width. If you jabbed someone hard with one of those, hitting them just right and putting enough force behind it, you could kill them the way Elliot was killed."

"I think we just found our murder weapon."

"Yeah," Hawkes said, looking at the box of supplies. "But which one?"

"We take and test all of them. Elliot's epithelials should be on the stick that killed him."

"And so will his killer's fingerprints."


	18. Chapter 18

**Note:** This was written for the CSI Big Bang. Thanks to Elenna for the beta. Trying this again! This can be considered a sequel to _Titania Falling_.  
**Content warning:** Some chapters include discussion of sexual violence.  
**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable CSI: NY characters, settings, etc. are the property of Anthony Zuiker and CBS. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of the CSI franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

::

Marcas Mahoney was awake when Maka and Lindsay reached his hospital room, looking a lot worse for wear in Maka's opinion. He looked up from the journal he was reading when they entered.

"Detective Maka," he said. "And I don't believe I've met your colleague." He motioned to the woman sitting at the side of his hospital bed. "This is my wife, Julia. I need to thank your colleague Detective Angell and the other detective with her. The doctors said that they might have saved my life."

"I'll pass that along," Maka said as she shook Julia Mahoney's hand. "Mr. Mahoney-"

"Please, Marcas."

"Marcas, we need to ask you some more questions. They're about the past month."

"The past month?"

"We have reason to believe that the poisoning started about a month ago," Lindsay said. "You told Detective Bonasera that you share some of the items in the refrigerator outside the lab?"

"Yes. Pretty much the entire building uses it. We put our meals in there and other snack-type items. Those of us in the lab would share soda, salsa, hummus, stuff like that."

"Did your lab share the Mountain Dew?"

"Yes," he nodded with a laugh. "Mostly Tripp and Jacob; I think that there was more caffeine running through their veins than blood sometimes. I used to drink it more, but my doctor told me to go easy on the caffeine - I've been getting more migraines than usual lately."

"And Miss Adcock?" Maka asked.

"Oh, no. She doesn't drink soda. She kept some bottles in the fridge to have cold - colder than came from the tap - water on hand. Hers were the bottles that weren't disposable. She has two, switches back and forth between them."

"Do all four of you share other items?" Lindsay asked with a slight frown.

"Ivy brings hummus and homemade salsa quite a bit. And there's the occasional carton of ice cream."

"Marcas," Maka said, "you mentioned that the lab groups involved in the grant all went out the night the finalists were announced. Where did you go?"

"A club by the name of Aura," he said. "I hadn't been there--before, I usually don't go out with the kids--But both Tripp and Jacob went there a lot, as did some of the others involved in the projects."

"Do you remember who all was there?"

"Most of the other groups—well, the graduate students involved. The phytoremediation group wasn't there; I think they were at a conference?" He continued when Maka nodded. "I don't really know the students very well, at least, not those outside my lab. Matt Tarleton I knew through Jacob and Tripp; his lab is in the same building, so he'd stop by to talk with them on occasion, and he joined our table when the rest of his colleagues left. Truthfully, I left soon after that. I'm not young enough to party into all hours of the morning."

"Do you know how much longer they stayed after you left?"

"No," he answered, shaking his head. "Ivy would be the one to ask; she was still there when I left. She seemed especially tired the next morning. I think she stayed out later than she had planned. Likely got caught up in the celebration."

"Did Tripp or Jacob ever say anything about the night at the club? Were there any altercations that you heard about?" Lindsay asked.

"No, nothing like that. At least, not that I heard of. Those kids don't always tell me what they get up to."

"Is there anything you remember from that night? Something that may have struck you as odd?"

"More odd than a bunch of Millennials hanging out at an eighties club?" Maka bit back a smile as he continued. "Not really. Tripp and Jacob were all over the place after we arrived, so it was just Ivy and me talking shop. She seemed uncomfortable, said she doesn't like to go out much. But she decided to stick around. Then the first wave of my generation, so to speak, left, and Matt joined us. That's when Tripp and Jacob came back to the table," he shrugged. "I left not long after that."

"Did you notice anyone paying extra attention to your table?"

"No, not at all," Marcas gave them a wan smile. "Neither Ivy nor I have ever been the 'cool kids', but we were okay with just hanging out and discussing our research. She had a lot of great ideas for beefing up the next section of our application."

"So you just talked shop with her until you left."

"Yes. I had to be in early the next morning even though it was a Saturday - the experiments don't care what day it is, they're done when they're done."

Lindsay smiled. "I understand. We've dealt with a few like that at the lab."

Marcas laughed, a sharp barking laugh, "You don't really appreciate the eight-to-five schedule until you have an experiment scheduled from six AM to midnight on a Saturday."

Lindsay nodded. "Thank you for your time. I hope you're able to get out of here soon."

"So do I. With just Ivy left in the lab, I can't help but wonder how she's keeping afloat. There's more than enough for two full-time staff, not just one grad student working between classes."

::

Danny sighed in relief when he was finally able to get into the A/V room without finding it in use, getting sidetracked by one of the Jersey CSIs with a question or waylaid by Mac needing more paperwork from him. He almost didn't have any paperwork left to do - something he was definitely planning to point out to Lindsay next time he saw her. If he saw her - everytime he did see her it sounded like her case had grown even more. At this point, he didn't think he was going to get a moment alone with her until it was closed, and it didn't look too good for the near future.

Grabbing the finally free computer, he opened the program they used to create simulations—or hypothetical simulations. He grabbed the notes he'd taken at the scene, inputting the values for the SUV, Oswald, and Lynch. Double-checking that everything was correct, he clicked the button to run the program.

On the screen, the figures representing Oswald and Lynch fought over the purse, pulling it back and forth between them as the SUV approached. As it came closer, the strap of the purse broke, the force of the action causing Oswald, as Danny had suggested to Scagnetti, to fly back into the street. Straight into the path of the oncoming vehicle. It, as the driver had said, didn't have time to stop - sending Oswald flying back onto the concrete sidewalk. The numbers the program presented him with on the force and velocity behind the impact told Danny everything he needed to know. He double-checked by running the simulation again and got exactly the same results.

It was an accidental death. No one was at fault, other than Oswald for trying to snatch the purse in the first place.

"Hey Scagnetti," he said into his cell phone after the other detective answered. He started shutting down the program as he spoke. "I finally had the chance to follow up on the purse snatcher. It was just like the witnesses, or at least the sane ones, said. When the strap snapped, he flew in front of the SUV."

"So it was an accidental death?"

"Definitely accidental."

"Good, I'll finish up the paperwork here."

"Have fun," Danny said. "I've only finally gotten caught up."

"Good, then I'll expect your part of the report in the morning." Scagnetti hung up before Danny could protest.

"Great," he sighed as he left the A/V room. Now he had to go and fill that out, or Scagnetti would never let him hear the end of it.

"Danny," Mac said as he and Hawkes stepped off the elevator, both of them carrying several hockey sticks, "A call just came in, a robbery-homicide at a restaurant in Queens. I want you to go with the team from Jersey to help out. It sounds like it's a bad one."

"I'm on it." he glanced at the hockey sticks the carried. "Planning on a game at the end of shift?"

"You wish, Danny," Hawkes said, giving him an amused look. "We think one of these might be our murder weapon."

"Don't tell Flack," Danny warned with a smirk. "You don't want to ruin his precious hockey for him any more than it already has been."

Mac smiled as Danny stepped on the elevator. "I think Flack will be able to handle it."

Danny shrugged as the elevator doors closed in front of him. Mac and Hawkes continued to the lab, where they laid the hockey sticks out on the light table.

"I'll start swabbing for epithelials," Hawkes said as he found the sterile swabs they used.

He and Mac formed an assembly line. First Hawkes swabbed the blade of the hockey stick, adding the swab to a test tube of the fluid used to extract DNA. Then Mac carefully dusted it for prints, photographing those he found.

After they finished, Hawkes helping Mac with printing the last few hockey sticks, the samples were sent to Dr. Parsons in DNA. They stopped and took a breather, surveying their work in the form of the ten hockey sticks laid out on the light table. They were all different types: aluminum, aramid, fiberglass, a composite material and two wooden.

Mac pointed to the one of wooden sticks, "That's the murder weapon."

"How do you know? We haven't gotten the results back yet from Jane," Hawkes said, glancing down at his watch. "And we probably won't for a few hours."

"Look at the prints," Mac said, pointing to the prints in question. "They're in the wrong spot for just grabbing the hockey stick from the box. And they don't fit with the way a hockey stick would be held. Compare them to the other hockey sticks: those prints are not consistent with typical use."

Hawkes studied the hockey sticks. "You're right. I'll call Jane and tell her to start with that sample."

"I'll run the prints through the AFIS and see if we get any hits."

::

"That was Lindsay," Stella said as she closed her cell phone. "She and Maka just finished speaking with Mahoney."

"Did they go to Aura?" Angell asked, not taking her eyes off traffic as she navigated towards the NYU campus.

"They did."

"What else did he say?"

"He didn't have much else that was useful but suggested that Ivy might."

"Then we can start with her," Angell said as she pulled into one of the campus parking lots. "I have a copy of her schedule, and she should be getting out of class about now."

"Where does she have class?"

"This one," Angell said, checking the schedule she'd written down in her notebook, "is in the Silver Center."

"That building?" Stella asked, pointing towards it.

"That'd be it," Angell said as they began to walk towards it.

It was obvious a class had ended as a wave of students left the building, spreading across the grass and sidewalks on their way to their next round of classes. A familiar face that wasn't Ivy Adcock exited the building, talking with someone until he spotted them and approached.

"Detective Angell, Detective Bonasera," Aaron Dixon said when he reached them. "I'm really glad I saw you."

"How are you doing, Aaron?" Stella asked.

"Better," he said. "I was told that if I wanted to, I could get all A's for the semester. Some sort of bereavement thing they do for students who lose their roommates. I said I'd continue with classes. I'd just end up sitting in my dorm or the lab all day with nothing to do. It's better to keep busy, I guess."

"What'd you need to talk to us about?" Angell asked.

"Oh, I, um, I've been working on the list." He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from a pocket and handed it to Angell.

"Great, thanks," she said as she opened it to see a list of names, not all of which were complete.

_Samantha Norland  
Melissa --  
Ellie Branden  
Evie --  
Isabella Mathis  
Amy Graham_

"I didn't know the last names of all of them," he said. "But I think this is all of them, with the list I already sent you. I've been trying to find out some of their names, but I don't want to, you know, seem stalkerish or anything like that. If Tripp did rape them, I doubt they want some random guy coming up and asking who they are. Especially if they remember me."

"This is great, Aaron," Angell said, giving him a quick smile. She could see Ivy Adcock coming out of the building behind him and glanced over at Stella, nodding in Ivy's direction.

"You've been really helpful," Stella added, stepping towards Ivy.

"But you have something you need to get to," he said.

"Yeah," Angell replied with a sympathetic smile as Stella went to flag Ivy Adcock down. "But if you think of anything else or come up with these last names, just let me know, okay?"

"Got it," he said, turning to leave.

She saw him glance over at Stella, a puzzled look on his face, but he didn't say anything to her as she left him.

"Miss Adcock," Stella was saying as she joined them, "we need to ask you a few more questions."

"Um, okay," she said, shifting the strap of her backpack on her shoulder. "What can I help you with?"

"What do you remember from the night of the party? The night the finalists for the grant were announced," Angell asked.

"Not much," she said with a nervous giggle. "I had a bit more to drink than I usually do."

"Anything you remember can help us," Stella said gently.

"Okay, um…" she paused, closing her eyes as she thought back. "Marcas didn't stay very long; he left when a bunch of the other--" she paused, searching for the right word, "--older members of the group left. That included most of Matt Tarleton's colleagues, and he and Jacob were good friends, so he joined our table. Actually, he joined us before Marcas left."

"What else happened?"

"Um, Marcas left while I was in the restroom. And, um, I didn't stay too long after that, either."

"So you made a short night of it?" Angell asked.

"Yeah, the, uh, drink I ordered was stronger than I expected. I thought it'd be best to get home."

"Is there anything else you can think of that happened that night?"

Ivy closed her eyes again, scrunching them tight before looking at Angell. "I think there was a fight? I don't know for certain, I just remember Jacob and Tripp talking about it the next day at work. I don't even know what it was over or who it was with. I'm sorry, I'm not really much help, am I?"

"You did great," Stella said, patting her arm. "You still have our cards, right?"

Ivy nodded, shifting her weight uncomfortably.

"If you remember anything else, don't hesitate to call us, okay?"

"Sure. If I remember anything, I, um, I have to get back to the lab," Ivy said before walking away. She glanced back over her shoulder at them, then hurried toward Brown Building.

"Uh-"

Both Stella and Angell whirled around to see Aaron watching Ivy walk away.

"That's one of them."

"One of who?" Stella asked in confusion.

"One of the ones from the list."

Angell pulled out the paper he'd given her and shook her head. "Ivy Adcock isn't on the list, Aaron."

"Ivy?" he asked. "I thought she said her name was Evie. Like that hot chick in _The Mummy_."

"Ivy, Evie, they could be easily confused," Stella said thoughtfully.

"It was about a month ago, on a Saturday morning. I went camping the night before with some friends, but it started raining hard that morning, and Todd, one of the friends I went with, is a city boy through and through. We ended up coming back early. I was surprised to see her in Tripp's bed, but figured he went out Friday night and brought her home with him-"

"A month ago?" Stella asked.

"Yeah."

"And you're certain?"

"Definitely. After she left, Tripp came back. He was surprised to see me and asked about her. He said they hooked up while they were out celebrating--that was when his research team made it into the final round of the grant competition."

"Thanks, Aaron," Angell said. "You've been a huge help."

"I have?"

"Definitely," Stella said.

"Good. Um…" he glanced back over his shoulder in the direction of his dorm. "If I remember the other girl's name, I'll let you know."

"Thanks," Angell repeated as he left them.

"You were right," Stella said. "This has nothing to do with the grant. It's all about the GHB."

"Something happened in that club all right," Angell said softly. "Just not what Ivy Adcock said happened."


	19. Chapter 19

**Note:** This was written for the CSI Big Bang. Thanks to Elenna for the beta. Thank you to everyone who has given feedback, it's greatly appreciated! This can be considered a sequel to _Titania Falling_.  
**Content warning:** Some chapters include discussion of sexual violence.  
**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable CSI: NY characters, settings, etc. are the property of Anthony Zuiker and CBS. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of the CSI franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

::

"Mr. Slatton," Flack said as he entered the interrogation room. "This is Detective Taylor."

"Detective," Slatton said, shaking his hand. "Like I told the officer who brought me, I'm more than happy to help."

"We think you may have been the last person to see Jarrett Elliot alive," Mac said.

"Really?" Slatton shifted in his seat. "I-I didn't realize."

"That's why it's so important for you to remember what you can about your last interactions with him," Mac continued. "Did he say anything about anyone?"

"No, he seemed happy," Slatton said. "We talked for a bit about Minnesota's season and about Kevin's prospects."

"What'd you do after that?" Flack asked.

"After we spoke?"

"Yes."

"Well, I went back to my seat."

"You didn't follow him into the locker room?" Flack asked.

"Of course not. Why would I?"

"For old times' sake? You played in The Garden back when you were with the Rangers; you knew the way."

"Yes, I did know the way. Jarrett wasn't certain exactly how to get there, so I told him. Then I went back to my seat."

"You see, Mr. Slatton," Mac said as he leaned forward. "We have a hard time believing that was all that happened." He placed some stills from the footage of the hockey game on the table for Slatton to see. "This is you returning to your seat. Just as the players are leaving the ice. Jarrett Elliot was dead by then, his body about to be discovered. You didn't return to your seat right after you spoke with Jarrett."

"And you didn't stop at the concession stand, either," Flack pointed out.

Slatton shook his head slowly, reaching out to touch the pictures and sliding them closer to where he sat.

"Mr. Slatton?"

"It wasn't supposed to happen that way, Detective. It really wasn't."

"It was an accident," Mac said.

"Yes," Slatton nodded. "I was showing Jarrett down to the locker room, and we got started talking about the team at Minnesota and how the season went. And when we got there, he just kept talking about how leaving a year early was the best thing he'd done and how Kevin should have, too."

"And?"

"Kevin had offers last year; he was asked to go to training camp by more than one small team, but I wanted him to hold out for the draft. He was supposed to get the Hobey this year. He was supposed to be a first round pick. Instead-"

"Instead, Jarrett left the team, and everyone realized how much they depended on him," Flack said.

"And on my son!" Slatton said angrily. "If it wasn't for Kevin, they wouldn't have won a game. But instead everyone talks about how much Jarrett held them up, how important he was to the team. No one said anything about Kevin! About how important _he_ was to the team. It was Jarrett this and Jarrett that. And then he started in on it, too, talking about how the team must have missed him. That boy's fame went to his head, straight to his head."

"So you killed him," Mac said.

"No, no. I didn't."

"Mr. Slatton-"

"I didn't mean to. Trust me, I didn't. He-" Slatton leaned forward, his elbows on the table and putting his head in his hands. "I just, I got so angry. I didn't know what I was doing. I don't know what I was thinking. I just grabbed the hockey stick and hit him. He-he grabbed his neck and started choking, and-and I realized what I'd done and I just ran."

"But you went down to watch the game."

"People were expecting me to be there. They'd have known something was wrong if I didn't."

"Why didn't you go for help?"

"Jarrett, he's young and healthy. I-I thought I'd just stunned him. I didn't realized he'd died until-"

"Until it was too late," Mac said.

Slatton nodded and whispered, "I still can't believe that he's dead. He- he was like a son to me."

::

"Hi, Ivy," Angell said as she entered the interrogation room. Maka followed her, taking a seat next to her and setting a folder on the table. "Thanks for agreeing to come down and help us out."

"It- It isn't a problem," Ivy said, fidgeting in her seat. She gave them a tense smile, one that didn't reach her eyes. "How can I help you?"

"I was hoping you could explain what happened at Aura the night of the grant celebration," Maka said.

Ivy frowned at them, glancing from Maka to Angell and back again. "I-I thought I already told her and the other detective."

"I know," Maka said, "I just have a few questions I'd like for you to clear up."

"Um, okay. What do you need to know?"

"What really happened?"

Ivy opened her mouth, then quickly shut it again, her teeth making a sharp clicking noise as she did. She looked away from them, down at her hands.

"Ivy?" Angell asked. "What really happened?"

"I-I don't remember."

"But you do remember waking up in Tripp Norton's dorm room, don't you? When his roommate got home the next morning?"

Ivy shifted in her seat. "I think it's best if I don't say anything."

But, Angell thought to herself, she didn't ask for a lawyer. She glanced over at Maka, who opened the folder.

"I did some research, Ivy," Maka said. "It turns out that you did your Masters degree at NYU as well. In the same lab, even."

Ivy nodded, her eyes wide.

"It was also cancer research."

"That's what Dr. Stoddard does," Ivy said quietly.

"Yes. And for your Masters degree, you researched the effect selenium supplementation had on the reducing the toxicity of chemotherapy drugs."

"We found that some chemotherapy drugs were more toxic to certain, hardy strains of cancer cells when patients were taking a selenium supplement," Ivy said. She glanced down at her hands. "I don't understand what that has to do with anything. I-I was poisoned, too, remember?"

"You understood the toxicity and effects of selenium, Ivy," Angell said, leaning forward. "You see, what we didn't understand was why your poisoning seemed to end, then pick up again. That's why you didn't get sick, because it stopped building up in your system."

"I-I guess I stopped drinking whatever it was in."

"Drinking?" Maka asked.

"Or eating, I guess."

"It's interesting you said drinking," Maka continued. "Because that's what was poisoned-- the lab's bottles of soda."

"Only you don't drink soda, do you?" Angell asked. "You stick with water while you're at the lab. We tested your water bottles; there wasn't any selenium in them."

"But," Maka said. "Your fingerprints were on the bottle of Mountain Dew."

"I have to move it, sometimes, to be able to get my water bottles."

"Detective Bonasera checked, Ivy; the placement of your prints wasn't consistent with just moving the bottle. They were consistent with opening it." Angell mimicked the motions of opening a bottle as she spoke, showing the placement of her hands.

"I-I might have opened it to pour some soda for the guys. I do help them out with that on occasion, when they're busy in the lab but need a refill."

"Uh-huh." Maka nodded as she flipped through the papers in her folder. She came to the one she wanted, then looked up at Ivy and said, "After Detective Bonasera tested your hair for selenium, she tested it for something else. You tested positive for having ingested GHB about a month ago."'

"That was the night of the celebration, when everyone went out to Aura to celebrate your research group making it to the final round of the grant, wasn't it?"

Ivy wrapped her arms around herself, beginning to slowly rock in her chair.

"Ivy?" Angell asked.

"I told you," she said quietly, "I don't remember what happened."

"You remembered something," Maka said. "Didn't you? Otherwise Matt would still be alive, and Marcas and Jacob wouldn't be in the hospital."

"I woke up," Ivy said, looking down at her hands as she spoke, "and I wasn't at home. I didn't know where I was. My clothes, they weren't on right, and I was sore. Really sore, like I'd-"

She broke off, looking up at them with tears in her eyes. "It didn't take a genius to figure out what happened." She sniffed and looked away, shaking her head slowly as she continued. "A guy--I didn't know him, but he looked a bit familiar--came in and asked if I was Tripp's new girlfriend. And I left."

"Why didn't you come to the police and report it?" Angell asked.

"Because I wasn't sure. I still didn't know what happened. Not-" She paused, taking a deep breath before she continued, "Not until I heard them talking, in the lab. I got out of class early, and they didn't know I was there."

"They were talking about what they did to you," Angell said.

"Tripp was saying it wasn't the first time he'd done it. He _told_ Jacob he was using the miraculin to disguise the taste of the GHB. He was giving Jacob _advice_ on doing this to other women, some girl that he's lab partners with or something like that. I- I couldn't believe it."

"Why didn't you come to the police then?" Maka asked.

"Days afterward? It would have been my word against theirs, and I couldn't remember what happened. That night was all a blur--it still is. And I had been drinking. Who would have believed me?"

"We would have," Maka said quietly.

Ivy scoffed. "Sure you would have. My word against three guys who are considered among the university's best and brightest."

"And who were seen leaving the club with you that night," Angell said.

"Would that have been enough?"

"Possibly," Maka said. "Possibly not. But it would have been enough to open up an inquiry."

"Meaning they still may not have gotten what they deserved."

"Did they deserve to die?" Angell asked.

"They needed to be stopped," Ivy said harshly.

"And since you knew about the effects of selenium and had access to it from your Masters research, you took things into your own hands," Maka said.

Ivy nodded. "There was a lot left over. No one was using it anymore and it was taking up space, so Dr. Stoddard asked me to make arrangements to get rid of it. He just meant for me to see if there were any other labs on campus that could use it. But he asked the same day I heard them talking, and it just clicked. That was what I needed to do."

Maka slid a legal pad across the table to Ivy. "Why don't you write it all down here?"

Ivy nodded, picking up the pen and starting to write.

"One more question," Angell said as they watched Ivy write her confession. "I get why you poisoned Tripp, Matt, and Jacob, but why Marcas? He left before you did and didn't have any part in this."

"But that's why. Right there," Ivy said, looking up from her writing. "He left. He left while I was in the bathroom. That was the only time I wasn't with my drink. If he hadn't left, they wouldn't have drugged it. They wouldn't have dared to. He should have stayed. He should have protected me."


	20. Epilogue

**Note:** This was written for the CSI Big Bang. Thanks to Elenna for the beta. Thank you to everyone who left feedback! This can be considered a sequel to _Titania Falling_. A big thanks to everyone who has followed along and left feedback for this story. It is always greatly appreciated! :X  
**Content warning:** Some chapters include discussion of sexual violence.  
**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable CSI: NY characters, settings, etc. are the property of Anthony Zuiker and CBS. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of the CSI franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

::

There was a knock on her door as Stella filed away the last of her paperwork for the Norton/Tarleton case. Looking up, she saw Aaron Dixon standing in her doorway, a uniformed officer just behind him.

"Aaron, come in," she said, waving him into the room. "What can I help you with?"

"Um, I wanted to talk to you," he said nervously as he took a seat. "Um, about what you do."

"As a CSI?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said with a shrug. "You do science stuff, right? But to help people?"

"That's a simplified version of it, but yes."

"What kind of bachelor's degree did you get? Do you have a Masters, as well? You're a detective, so did you have to go to the Police Academy also?" He seemed to become more sure of himself as he asked the questions, pulling out a spiral bound notebook and pencil to take notes.

"Why all the questions? Are you interested in becoming a CSI?"

"Maybe," he said. He rubbed the back of his head before continuing, "I- Well, my parents have always stressed how important it is to give back, to help other people, you know? Dad's on the hospital board back home, and Mom works at a shelter."

"I thought that you were Pre-Med, though," Stella commented, trying to remember that first conversation with him and his advisor.

"Well, when I started school, it was just expected that I'd go Pre-Med. Everyone's pushing for it, even Dr. Eisenberg." He fidgeted in his chair, looking down at his hands. "But, um, I spent enough time in hospitals as a kid - my sister had leukemia – and I'm not really interested in spending any more time in one than I have to now. So I always planned to go into research, try to help people that way. It seems kind of pointless now. What good would I be stuck off in a lab? I wasn't able to help the women that Tripp hurt."

"You may not have been able to help them at the time, but you did help us with the investigation."

"At least I was able to help someone," he muttered, shifting in his seat.

"So you're thinking of a career change?"

"There's, um, there's an internship opening down in Jersey City at the crime lab there. It's just a summer internship, and I haven't applied yet, but I've been thinking about it and wanted to, well, talk to someone about it."

"Well," Stella said, leaning forward and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "I think you have a great start with what you're currently majoring in. A dual major of molecular/cellular biology and chemistry is going to prepare you for a large percentage of the lab work that we do here. Normally, it would be suggested that you have some classes in forensic science or criminal justice as well. I don't, however, believe that NYU offers much coursework in those areas, and if you are interested in being a CSI, you'd want to attend the Police Academy, where you'd pick most of that up anyway. If you're interested in just working in the crime lab as a lab tech, I'd suggest getting a Masters degree, continuing in one of the areas you're already studying instead of going to the Academy."

"I was thinking of maybe picking up some evening or summer classes at CUNY," Aaron said, looking up from where he was scribbling down her comments. "They have a pretty good criminal justice program, according to the research I've been doing."

"So you've really been thinking a lot about this?"

"Enough to do some research. I've, uh, had a lot of spare time lately," he said with a shrug. "The end of my junior year isn't really a good time to suddenly decide to change my career path."

"But it's better than the end of your senior year," she pointed out.

Aaron grinned in response. "That's why I was thinking of trying out the internship, see if it really is something I'd want to do."

"If that's the case, I'd suggest waiting until next fall to pick up the classes at CUNY," Stella said, a thoughtful look on her face. "That'll give you a chance to see if you like it before you overwhelm yourself with classes and work. Crime has a tendency to go up in the warmer months, so you might end up busier than you'd think. What kind of course load were you planning for the fall?"

"Well," he said, "I've finished most of my required credits because I've taken a lot of overload semesters. I could graduate in December if I wanted to. Or I could take fewer credits at NYU each semester and take some classes at CUNY-- graduate in the spring instead."

"You know, Aaron, I think the internship is a good idea," Stella said. "I'd also suggest that you speak with Dr. Eisenberg about this, since he's your advisor. And contact CUNY to speak with one of their Criminal Justice professors, too: they might have some advice on how it's best for you to go about enrolling in the fall. But the Jersey City crime lab is a good one." She couldn't help but smile a bit ruefully as she continued, "I've worked with the head of their lab before. In fact, several members of their lab are assisting us right now, since we - well, the NYPD as a whole - have been hit pretty hard with the flu."

"I'd heard about that," he said, nodding. "We were talking about the process of predicting the flu vaccine in class the other day, and it came up."

"You know," Stella said, looking through the glass walls across the lab and spying a familiar redhead near Mac's office, "come with me, Aaron. Let me introduce you to someone."

Quinn was on the move, but they caught up with her near the break room. "Hey, Quinn."

"Detective Bonasera," Quinn said, nodding her head before glancing over at Aaron.

"I hear that you have an internship open this summer," Stella continued.

"Yes, we do," Quinn said, giving Stella an amused look. "Interested in applying?"

"Actually, I want you to meet someone," she said, motioning to Aaron. "This is Aaron Dixon; he's a junior in Cellular and Molecular Biology and Chemistry at NYU, and he also happens to be interested in applying for that internship. Aaron," she said, turning to him, "this is Inspector Quinn Shelby, the head of the Jersey City crime lab."

Aaron gave her a surprised look before extending his hand to Quinn. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

"Interested in becoming a CSI?" Quinn glanced at her watch before nodding to the break room door. "I have about fifteen minutes and was going to grab a quick bite to eat. Why don't you join me? I can tell you about the internship, and you can tell me about your studies."

"That would be great, if you don't mind. I don't want to take over your break-"

"Come on, it's fine," Quinn said, opening the break room door.

"Aaron," Stella added quickly, "I'll be down in my office if you want to talk about anything else."

He nodded as he followed Quinn into the break room, the two of them already deep in discussion over the internship.

"Friend of yours?" Mac asked from just behind her, causing her to jump.

"Mac! Don't do that! I didn't hear you," she chided him with an exasperated look.

"Sorry," he said, nodding to the door. "So?"

"Tripp Norton's roommate, the one who helped us break the case."

"And he's here because?"

"You're looking at the next generation of CSI, Mac," she said with a grin. "He came to ask about some career advice and mentioned he was interested in the internship Quinn's offering this summer. It seemed like a good idea to introduce them since she's around. With his background, he'd be a great addition to any lab." She frowned slightly. "It almost makes me wish we had an intern spot to fill this summer."

"Really, Stella? Trying to recruit him already? "

::

"Mr. Mahoney?" Maka said as she knocked on the hospital room door.

Mahoney looked up from the journal he was reading. "Detective Maka, how are you?"

"Good. And you're looking much better."

"I'm feeling much better," he said, "though there is something to be said for the cure being worse than the ailment. But I'm feeling better than I have in nearly a month. And, if nothing else, being in here is giving me time to get caught up on my reading."

"That's very good to hear."

"I'm trying to decide if you're here with good news or bad," he said, watching her. "So just sit and tell me."

"It's a bit of both, I'm afraid."

"Jake?" Mahoney asked apprehensively.

"Stabilized, though he will likely need a new kidney soon," Maka said as she took a seat in the chair by the bed.

"Poor kid," he said, shaking his head slowly. "I've been working with him for several years now. He's bright, has a great future ahead of him. So does Ivy--how is she doing?"

"Had," Maka said slowly. "Had a great future, both of them."

"I don't understand."

"Ivy has confessed to the poisonings. She'll be going to prison. As will Jacob, as soon as he's out of the hospital."

"Jake? Going to prison? And what's this about Ivy?"

"Jacob, Tripp, and Matt drugged Ivy at the party a month ago, raping her while she was passed out. Jacob has confessed to his role in what happened."

"That's why she--" he closed his eyes in defeat with the realization. "That's why she poisoned them."

"Yes."

"Do I even want to know?" he asked.

"Know what?"

"Why me? Why did she poison me, too? And herself?"

"We think she poisoned herself at first to throw anyone who might be suspicious off track, make herself look like a victim too. As for you.." Maka took a deep breath, "you left while she was in the bathroom."

"Yes, I did. I told the guys to tell her I said goodbye, but I just couldn't stay out any longer."

"That was the only time she was away from her drink."

"When they drugged her." Mahoney leaned back against the pillows. "It was my fault. If I hadn't left-"

"No, it wasn't your fault. It was Tripp and Matt and Jacob's fault. Truthfully, if not Ivy, it would have been another woman. Had been another woman, on more than one occasion. According to Jacob, that wasn't the first time Tripp and Matt had 'shared'." She shuddered in disgust at that thought, the feeling that she needed to go home and shower after speaking with Plank coming back. "We know that Tripp was using the miraculin the lab was producing to disguise the taste of GHB, and we know that Ivy wasn't the only one they drugged."

"If only one of the victims had come forward," he said.

"It's easy to say that," Maka said quietly, "but it isn't so easy for the victims. Rape victims get blamed for the crime more than any other group of victims. People tend to forget that just because you're wearing a low neckline or a short skirt or have had a bit much to drink doesn't mean you're asking for it. But more than one victim I've worked with has had that experience, being blamed for the crime, and GHB affects the memory as well. In most cases it's doubtful they knew what happened, much less whether or not they gave consent. Not that it would have mattered--when you've been drugged you're impaired, and legally you can't give consent."

"You know a lot about this."

"I was in the Special Victims Unit before transferring to homicide," Maka said. "I've worked with a lot of rape victims. I should have recognized the signs when we first met Ivy; looking back, they were everywhere."

"And I should have realized, as well," Mahoney said. "I work with her almost every day. I'd noticed she'd become withdrawn. I just assumed that she was under a lot of stress with her classes."

"She was under stress, all right."

"It just didn't have anything to do with her schoolwork."

::

Angell stretched, fighting back a yawn as she stood from her desk. The Lieutenant had already told her to take the rest of the day and tomorrow off but she had decided to stick around long enough to finish the paperwork for the case. Getting it done now meant that it wouldn't be there when she got back. But now she was going home, and she really liked the idea of sleeping for the next thirty-six hours

"Hey, sleepyhead," Flack said as he joined her by her desk. "Heading home?"

"Yeah, I think so," she said as she gave him a tired grin.

"I heard the Lieutenant gave you tomorrow off, also."

"And trust me, I'm looking forward to spending quality time with my bed."

"And your noisy neighbors," he reminded her.

"Don't," she groaned as she pulled her coat on. "You realize you just ruined it. Now any chance I had of them being quiet has been ruined."

"Poor thing," he said, walking with her out the front doors of the precinct. "It's a shame you aren't seeing someone who has a place in a nice, quiet building."

"Like we'd get any rest," she said with an amused snort.

"You never know," he said lightly. "I could surprise you. It has been a long couple of days for me, too, you know."

"I'd be more inclined to believe that," she teased him, "if I didn't have firsthand experience of you sleeping through storm sirens. And just about anything else." She inadvertently followed her comment with a huge yawn, causing him to chuckle.

"C'mon, Jess," he said, steering her toward his car. "I'm not going to let you drive this tired. Let me take you home."

"Mmm-hmm," she hummed lightly. "Whose home?"

"Does it matter?" he asked with a laugh.

"Not really," she said as they stepped in. She leaned her head back against the seat rest and closed her eyes after buckling the seatbelt.

"I didn't think so. It'll just be you, me, and ten hours of uninterrupted sleep."

"Make that twelve and you've got a deal," she said without opening her eyes.

He laughed. "Deal."

The car grew silent as he pulled out into traffic. He was almost certain that she'd fallen asleep when she turned to him and gave him a sleepy smile. "Oh, and Don, thanks."

He reached across the seat, squeezing her hand. "No problem, no problem at all. Just remember, you owe me."

Her laughter filled the car as they drove.

**End**


End file.
